Chasing Lily
by SiriuslyPsychic
Summary: Harry Potter has struggled through life, always asking himself one question. Why me? Until recently, he had never known why the Dark Lord had attempted to murder him as a baby. But, now that the answer has been provided, he has a new question. How did his parents end up married, when Lily Evans had made her feelings towards James Potter so very clear? Disclaimer: I'm not JKR... :C
1. Prologue

A knock on the door rang out in the silence. A lone man, sitting at a desk lit by candlelight, glanced up from a picture. His face, while handsome, was worn and covered in thin scars. "Come in," he called, his voice a bit hoarse, but strong all the same.

The door creaked open, and a head of messy, jet black hair poked in. A body followed, the body of a teenage boy, with the pinched, unhealthy appearance of someone who had grown quite a bit in a rather short space of time. The expression on the boy's thin face was pained, but guarded. The man furrowed his brow and stood.

"Harry," he sighed, striding over to the boy quickly. He shut the door with a quiet snap and turned, putting his hands on the boy's shoulders.

"Professor Lupin-" the boy started, before the man cut him off.

"Harry, I'm not your teacher anymore," he reminded Harry gently.

The boy flushed pink, and apologized, "Right, I'm sorry. It's just-"

"No need to apologize, Harry. Did you want something?"

Harry's head snapped up, his emerald eyes meeting Lupin's darker, pine-colored ones for the first time since the Ministry. "I had to ask," he began hurriedly. "I mean, I know that this probably isn't the best time, after-" Harry's voice cracked, but he plowed on bravely, "after Sirius, but I had to know-" Harry hesitated.

Lupin assured him, "Harry, whatever you need. All you have to do is ask."

"Well, you were one of my dad's best friends, right?" Lupin nodded once, slowly. "Can you tell me- how did they get married, if they hated each other?"

Lupin sighed again, rubbing his eyes. "You have to understand, Harry, they didn't hate each other. James chased Lily for years before she caved-"

"But she hated him."

Lupin lowered his hands and met Harry's gaze steadily. "Lily had no intentions of changing her opinion of James, and that blinded her to the changes he was making in himself for her sake."

"Please, Lupin," the boy begged him. _He's so young..._ Lupin thought sadly. Harry hadn't yet turned sixteen, but he had already lost almost everything. Harry's eyes, so like Lily's, were begging him earnestly for a tale that had been so twisted, had so many holes, that he didn't know what to think anymore. "I have to know."

Lupin closed his eyes, his bedraggled appearance betraying the heartbreak and exhaustion within. "You may want to sit down," he stated, lowering himself into his own chair. "It's a long story."


	2. September 1st, 1971

James Potter could imagine nothing more thrilling- nothing more positively exhilarating- than being James Potter.

That is, until he woke up, bright and early, on the morning of September 1st, 1971.

Early as it was, the morning was already crisp and golden. The air wafting in from his window smelled sweet, and he was struck with a vivid mental image of an apple. At first, he questioned why he had woken so early. After all, the sun was still rising, slowly but steadily, over the treetops.

Then he remembered.

Hogwarts.

Finally, after years-years-of plotting and scheming and waiting around twiddling his thumbs, it was finally here, finally about to happen. His life was about to start, even though air had entered his lungs for the first time eleven years ago. Now was when his life started, now was when he was going to do something with his life.

No longer was he Jamesie, the little boy, who hadn't gone to school yet, who had rich parents, who had life handed to him on a silver platter! No, sir! He was James Potter, the one, the only, making his way on his own! He was on his way to freedom, to glory, to becoming a man worthy of being!

He swelled in excitement and practically floated out of his bed. He hurriedly threw on the jeans and shirt laid out for him- being the son of a renowned Auror, he knew how to go incognito. Besides, his robes were much too warm for weather like this. No, he would change on the train.

He paused in front of the mirror, but shrugged at his hair. He liked it the way it was-wild.

James dove for the door and flung it open, revealing his parents, shuffling about drearily, taking large gulps of steaming coffee.

"Hello! Lovely morning, isn't it?" he asked cheerily. His parents were usually already gone by the time he was even considering getting out of bed, and as such, the expressions on their unwashed faces were those of surprise.

"James!" his mother exclaimed. "What are you doing, being up so early?"

James pointed out, "You lot are up." But at his mother's steely glare-she was not at all a morning person-he added, rather defensively, "It's September first."

His father laughed, "Are you really that eager to be rid of us?"

"Yes." Both of his parents spewed coffee all over him, laughing, as James wiped the hot coffee from his glasses. "Not funny," he huffed.

James was dropped off at Kings Cross a few hours early. His mother was distressed at the notion of not seeing him off, on his first year, but James honestly preferred it this way. As much as he loved his dear old mum, he didn't want her to blubber about her "big boy, all grown up and off to Hogwarts" when there were lots of people. He would much rather it be when there were only a few people, huddled in their corners.

There was hardly anyone there, even for a few hours early. Just two other boys, a girl, and their families. One boy was sallow, greasy, and dressed in clothes much too large for him that appeared to have belonged to a woman at some point in time. His mother, or at least who James presumed to be his mother, had a beaky nose and a distasteful expression on her face as she eyed the girl and her family. James couldn't help but notice that both of them had bruises, though the woman had considerably more, and they stood out darker against her pale skin.

The girl, who had a mane of dark red hair, was having a whispered argument with an older girl, probably her sister. Her sister looked like a blonde horse. Their parents were staring at the last family with an odd expression, concern, maybe a little fear.

James, too, turned his attention to the other family. Again, it was just a boy and his mother, but they were lurking in the shadows. Clearly, the boy was being scolded for something or other. The woman was bent over, shaking a finger in his face and saying something that was obviously not to the boy's taste. He had a bored expression on his handsome face, and he tried to move away with his trolley, but the woman, who looked rather vulture-ish, grabbed his ear and pulled him back, upsetting his trolley. The owl cage on top of the trolley teetered and fell, rolling as the poor bird inside squawked. James raced to pick it up, feeling not only for the owl, but for its owner as well, who was rubbing his ear while he glared at his mother.

James carried the owl over, whispering comforting nothings to it. He caught a snippet of the mother's scoldings when he approached. "-better not do anything, if you disgrace our family one more time-" she stopped short when she saw James. "What do you want?" she snapped.

James, rather taken aback, stuttered, "Your owl fell, ma'am-"

The boy turned, his expression guarded. "Thanks," he said cautiously, taking the owl. "You okay, buddy?" he murmured to it softly. He stroked the owl's feathers and placed it back on top of the trunk, where he continued to fuss over it.

The woman pulled him by his shoulder roughly, forcing him to face her. "You remember what I said," she threatened ominously before stalking away.

The boy waited until he was sure she was gone before letting out a breath he had obviously been holding in. "Thanks again, mate," he breathed gratefully. "Life-saver, you are."

James shrugged and rubbed the back of his head. "I'm James," he offered. "James Potter."

The boy smirked. "Why do people do that?"

"Do what?"

"Say their first name twice before saying their last name."

James blinked. It had never occurred to him. "I... Don't know..." he trailed off, frowning. He stared at the scarlet steam engine, trying to find an answer.

"Well, I'm Sirius," the boy continued. James' eyes snapped back to Sirius' gray ones. "Say, isn't Potter the last name of one of those Aurors that was investigating the Ottery St. Catchpole killings?"

James nodded. "Yeah, my dad is heading it."

"How many dead? Eight, wasn't it?"

James scowled. "It was twenty."

Sirius started. "Twenty? The Prophet said-"

"Yeah, well the Prophet doesn't think that the loss of Muggle lives is enough to make the papers, now does it?" James growled.

"That's..." Sirius trailed off, a troubled look in his eyes. "That's awfully suckish of them," he finished lamely.

James grinned and pushed his circular glasses back up his nose. "Yeah, Dad was having quite the time, ranting about the 'corruption of the British wizards' law system'..." He cast around for a different subject. "Say, what do you think they're so upset about?" he asked, pointing at the sallow boy and his mother.

"Dunno about the kid," began Sirius, "but the mom might be upset about having to be seen with a greasy haired kid like him in public for the next... Hour? Hour and a half?"

James laughed, and as people began to filter in through the barrier, they spent the next hour and a half making up the most ridiculous backstories and names for all of them.

Sirius and James were among the first to snag a compartment on the Hogwarts Express. They soon launched into a conversation about Quidditch, James steadfastly defending the Kenmare Kestrels against Sirius' accusations that the Falmouth Falcons were going to win the Cup next. A knock on the door interrupted them.

James looked up to find a tall, thin boy standing in the door frame and a short, plumper boy standing just behind him. "Do you mind...?" asked the tall one, who it seemed had been the one to knock.

James beamed. "Come, join me and my merry men! ...well, man," he corrected himself. The tall boy's scarred face split into a grin, his dark green eyes lighting up. "My name is James Potter... Notice that I didn't say my first name twice!" he shot at Sirius, who smirked.

"This time," he conceded, before turning to the boys who had just seated themselves. "I'm Sirius."

"Remus Lupin," the tall one clarified as he struggled to remove something from the pocket of his jeans, which, unlike James' and Sirius', were not ripped. Finally he succeeded in extracting a small paperback book from the evidently large pocket and settled back into the corner, his nose buried in the book, which was called A Thousand and One Nights.

The smaller boy introduced himself as Peter Pettigrew, and they delved back into their discussion of Quidditch. Remus held out for nearly ten minutes before giving up peace and quiet to read as a hopeless case and joining in, insisting that the Hollyhead Harpies would trump all.

As they persisted in friendly banter, a girl drifted in without asking. She sat down next to James, her curtain of wine red hair hiding her face from view as she stared out the window. Their conversation halted as they stared at her, before James broke the ice by stating, "Usually, I don't allow maidens to join my hunt, but you are welcome to be Maid Marion-"

The girl turned with a glare that could freeze lava. "I'm not interested in being anyone other than myself, thanks," she snapped. James blinked, staring at her. Her startling eyes were green, but not the warm pine green that Remus' were-they were a piercing emerald, and, at the moment, red-rimmed.

"Well, then, who are you?" Sirius asked.

She turned her glare to him, but replied "Evans" before turning back to the window as the platform began to fall behind them.

Confusedly, Sirius asked, "Isn't Evan a boy's name?"

She began to reply hotly, but Remus interrupted. "It's her last name... Right?" he clarified, turning to her. She hesitated, but nodded, looking less hostile. "I'm Remus... This is Sirius, James, and Peter."

"I'm sorry if I offended you..." James offered. "I didn't mean to."

"No, it's fine... I'm just..."

"You were arguing with someone on the platform."

James could practically see her mental guards flying back up as she narrowed her eyes. "That's none of your business, I'm afraid, so please keep your long nose out of it."

Sirius, Remus, and Peter held back laughs as James pouted, "It's not that long..." An uncomfortable silence settled on them, before Peter continued the former conversation, leaving Evans to continue to stare out the window all by her lonesome.

About half an hour into the trip, the pale boy began poking his hooked nose into all of the compartments. He had already changed into his robes, probably eager to get out of his too-big Muggle clothes. He stopped at theirs, and entered. Without asking, the nerve of him. He sat down across from Evans, watching her expectantly. She glanced at him and looked away quickly.

In a voice that was hoarse but strong, Evans stated, "I don't want to talk to you."

"Why not?" the boy asked. James didn't like his voice much. It sounded rather like he spent a lot of time sneering.

"Tuney h-hates me." Tuney? "Because we saw that letter from Dumbledore..." A letter from Dumbledore?

"So what?" Merlin, this guy isn't very nice.

"So she's my sister!" Oh, Tuney is the horse. James lost interest, because Peter was reciting the scores of the Tutshill Tornadoes, in a very good attempt to convince them that the Tornadoes would win the Cup. James was actually almost convinced that they would at least make it to the finals.

Suddenly, a statement from the boy caught James' attention. "...better be in Slytherin!"

"Slytherin?" he asked incredulously, interrupting Remus' well-reasoned argument that the Hollyhead Harpies had a better chance at the Cup. "Who wants to be in Slytherin? I think I would leave, wouldn't you?" he added, turning to Sirius, who was now sprawled upside down in his seat.

Sirius said sulkily, "My whole family have been in Slytherin." Oh...

"Blimey, and I thought you seemed alright!" Sirius grinned at him.

"Maybe I'll break the tradition." Yes. Yes, do that please. "Where are you heading, if you've got the choice?"

James stood proudly, hefting an invisible sword. "'Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart!'" He dropped the sword, adding, "Like my dad." The boy made a small noise, rather disparaging. James scowled, lifting the sword again and pointing it at him. "Got a problem with that?"

"No," he sneered, completely unconcerned at the imaginary sword digging into his skinny little neck. "If you'd rather be brawny than brainy-"

"Where are you hoping to go," Sirius interrupted, "seeing as you're neither?" James laughed, his sword dropping again.

Evans shot up, her face a little pink. "Come on, Severus, let's find a different compartment," she snapped, eyeing James and Sirius with great dislike.

"Oooooo..." James sat back down, imitating her lofty voice. He stuck out a foot as 'Severus' passed. Unfortunately, he didn't trip.

"See ha, Snivellus!" Sirius hollered after them as the door snapped shut. James roared with laughter, tears streaming from his eyes, Peter joining in with his own, sort of high-pitched, giggle. Remus quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing, returning to his book.

"Oh, come on, Remus, you have to admit that was clever," James said, wiping his eyes.

Remus raised both eyebrows, not looking up from the pages. "It may have been clever, but it wasn't very nice," he stated bluntly. James squirmed in his seat, but Sirius seemed bored by the admonishment. "And, if my instincts are correct, Miss Evans isn't one to make an enemy of."

James snorted, "Yeah, sure. I'm scared of a girl."

"Don't judge a book by its cover!" Remus sang before settling into his corner and continuing to read, his pine green eyes flicking across the page.

James hopped down from the train, his robes swirling about his feet. "Woah..." he breathed, stopping dead in his tracks.

"Move it, will you?" Sirius grumped, shoving James out of the way so he could pass. "What's got you-" Sirius, too, halted, staring at the giant form that was transfixing James. "-staring..."

Remus followed, his skinny frame towering half a foot above them. "Oh, I'm pretty sure that's Hagrid."

"Hagrid?" Peter asked, tumbling onto the platform. "What's-oh. Who is he?"

James, who had been thinking along the lines of what is he, shrugged. Sirius, this time, answered, "Isn't Hagrid the gameskeeper?"

"Yeah, I think so..."

Hagrid was massive. Three times as tall as James, and at least five times as wide, he swung a lantern from a fist the size of a small dog. "Firs' years!" he called, his deep voice emanating from behind a dark, bushy beard. "Firs' years this way!" James scrambled up to him.

"Why are you so tall?" he asked.

Hagrid looked down. "Well, that's none o' yer business, now is it?" he asked, but his black eyes crinkled up. James grinned as Sirius, Remus, and Peter joined him. "Firs' years, this way- oh good, yer here. Follow me!" With that, Hagrid turned, lantern swinging in his grasp, and stumped away towards the lake. He led them to a fleet of tiny boats floating on the glassy surface of the Black Lake. Dear Merlin no... James thought forlornly. He felt sick to his stomach, just looking at the tiny wooden structure bobbing in the water. "Four to a boat!" Hagrid clarified, though he took up an entire boat by himself. Sirius was the first in the boat, followed quickly by Peter, Remus, then James, who had spent thirty seconds steeling himself.

"Everyone in?" yelled Hagrid, checking to make sure. "Right, then-FORWARD!" With a lurch that sent James' mind to dark, gloomy places, their boat began to chug forward, leaving ripples in its wake. James clutched the side, knuckles white, stomach protesting. Trying to keep from being sick, James focused on the castle, which was looming ever closer. The windows were lit, giving the turrets a cheery, homey glow.

James was startled by Hagrid's sudden shout of, "Heads down!" The first boats had reached the cliff. James stuck his head between his knees and took deep, steadying breaths as he felt a curtain of ivy brush over his back. He heard Sirius snigger. "Shut up," he moaned forlornly. When he looked up, they were exiting a dark tunnel into a sort of underground harbor thing. James leapt from the boat and promptly emptied the contents of his stomach into a bush.

"Well that was attractive." James turned, hastily wiping his mouth, to find Evans wrinkling her nose. He was pleased to see that she, too, was a delicate shade of green. He began to retort, but she spun away, her hair flicking his nose. Remus came up behind him.

"Come on," he said, steering James towards the castle. "Sooner we get food in your stomach, the better..."

"Why?" Peter asked. "Won't that make him more sick?" Personally, James agreed. Remus, on the other hand, shook his head.

"It'll settle his stomach. As long as you eat fairly bland foods, and not to fast or too much, you should be fine." Remus prodded James along, giving James the impression of a mother hen. Sirius laughed at James' predicament, insisting that he had been "green as a fresh pickled toad". James had been all too happy to shove him into the nearest wall.

Hagrid led them up a passageway that let them onto the grounds. As they stood in the castle's shadow, Hagrid raised a massive fist and knocked on the thick wooden doors three times.

The door swung open immediately, as if it had been expecting them. It probably had. A very stern looking woman replaced it. Her entire appearance exuded strictness; from the firm lines around her mouth, to her black hair in a tight bun, not a single hair out of place. Her tall frame and rigid posture reminded James of his mother.

Hagrid announced, "Firs' years, Professor McGonagall." Oh, this is Professor McGonagall! His father had spoken fondly of this woman; she had been at the Ministry a lot when Charlus had begun working at there. Something having to do with cats?

"Thank you, Hagrid," Professor McGonagall said. "I will take them from here." James was bursting with excitement, and he could feel Peter trembling next to him. When he looked over, Peter's face was shining with amazement. Sirius was tapping a foot impatiently. Remus merely studied the Entrance Hall, which was massive. It was lit with flaming torches that lined the walls. James could barely see the ceiling, and a marble staircase faced them.

Instead of leading them to the large doors from behind which James could hear voices, Professor McGonagall led them to a rather smaller, very empty chamber. They all crowded in, much too close for James' comfort, and waited. "Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall began. "The start-of-term banquet is about to start, but before you can take your seats, you must be Sorted into your Houses. Your House will be like your family while you are here at Hogwarts. You will go to classes with the students in your House and year, sleep in the House dormitory, and you may spend free time in the House common room. Triumphs will earn House points, but any rule-breaking will lose points. The House Cup is awarded to the House with the most points at the end of the year. I should hope a each and every one of you is a credit to whichever House you are Sorted into. The Houses are Gryffindor,-" here, James elbowed Sirius, "-Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," Sirius pulled a truly comical face, and James stuffed a fist into his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. Professor McGonagall eyed them, her gaze lingering on James' messy hair. "I suggest you all clean yourselves up as much as you can-the Sorting Ceremony will begin in a few minutes, and I should hate to see one of you made a fool of in front of the whole school because you trip over your shoelaces." Here, there was much head bumping, as the entirety of the first years suddenly looked down to check their shoelaces.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," she finished, whisking out of the antechamber and shutting the door behind her with a sharp snap!

Peter was shuffling from foot to foot, twisting his fingers. "How do you think they Sort us?"

"My mum told me I had to wrestle a troll..." Sirius replied nervously, triple checking his laces.

Remus, who was smoothing his second-hand robes, snorted. "Don't be thick, they wouldn't do that." Satisfied that his robes were u wrinkled, he glanced over James. "I think it's some sort of test... And James, your fly is down," he added helpfully.

James felt a rush of panic and hastily looked down, only to find that his robes covered his pants. He glared at Remus, who was laughing. A test?! James didn't know any magic yet... This wasn't very fair of them.

All of the sudden, James felt quite cold. He shivered, and found a ghost floating in front of him. It appeared that the ghost had floated through him. James studied the ghost with interest. With a ruffly collar and tights, the ghost looked as though he belonged in a Shakespeare play. "What are you doing here?" the ghost asked. James tilted his head.

"The Sorting-"

"Ah, yes, of course, my mistake." The ghost began to drift off. "Hope to see you in Gryffindor!" James beamed.

"Come, now. The Ceremony is about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned, and, with her, James' excitement. "Form a line and follow me." She spun on her heel and marched into the Entrance Hall, through the large doors, and led the first years to the front of the long hall.

James waited impatiently, staring at the grandeur around him. Four long, dark, wooden tables stretched from one end of the hall to the other, each filled with students. The staff table in front of him was raised higher than the other tables. Candles floated above their heads, and the ceiling-

"Woah," breathed Sirius. "How long do you think it took to paint that?" The ceiling was an expanse of inky blue, sparkling with silver constellations.

Remus laughed, "It's enchanted, genius. To look like the sky outside." James, Sirius, and Peter stared at him. "What? It's in Hogwarts, A History." James rolled his eyes. Of course Remus read the textbooks before school had even started. A clunk rang out through the hall, drawing James' eyes back to Professor McGonagall. She had just placed an old four-legged stool in front of the staff table, and was placing a raggedy old wizards' hat on top. The poor old thing was patched and frayed and looked hundreds of years old, like it would fall apart if touched in the wrong place.

James glanced around to see that everyone was staring at the hat, so he did, too. Maybe the students had to pull a rabbit out? Silence, and then a seam on the front of the hat split, and the hat burst into song.

The hat sang of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. It sang of the four founders. It sang of unity, friendship, and strength. It capped it all off with a very ominous warning of what lurked beyond Hogwarts' walls. James was impressed, and immensely relieved.

"We just have to try on the hat!" he shouted over the applause. "I'm going to kill you, going on about wrestling trolls..." Sirius grinned at him, and suddenly silence fell again. James was barely nervous anymore. He knew where he belonged, he wouldn't be sitting there four hours while the Sorting Hat tried to figure out where he belonged. Professor McGonagall strode forward, unfurling a parchment. "I will call your name, and you will come forward and place the hat on your head. Now, let's see... Abbot, Rosen!" A boy with ridiculously protruding ears and hair like straw detached himself from the line, trembling. He sat on the stool, which began to shake with him, and the hat was placed on his head. After a moment in which no one dared breathe- "HUFFLEPUFF!" Rosen Abbot rose to his feet unsteadily, took off the hat, and ran to the table that had begun to cheer.

"Black, Sirius!" Black? James thought, looking at Sirius. Sirius had closed his eyes at the sound of his last name ringing through the hall. No wonder... The Blacks were an old pure-blood family that was notorious for Muggle-hating. James vividly remembered an instance last year when his mother had come home furious, bearing the news that Walburga Black's cousin, Araminta Meliflua had tried to force through a Ministry bill to make Muggle-hunting legal. James would hate his last name, too, if it were Black.

Sirius pushed his way through the line, glancing to his left. He paled and looked away quickly. James glanced over and saw that the Slytherin table had prepared to clap. James scowled and focused on Sirius, who jammed the hat on his head and sat down, his posture rigid. His eyes were screwed shut, his brow was scrunched up, and he was biting his bottom lip. Please, James thought desperately. Don't put him in Slytherin, he would hate it. Please don't put him there. After six entire minutes, six heart wrenching, panic inducing minutes, the hat opened its mouth- "GRYFFINDOR!" James cheered for Sirius, who had visibly relaxed. He sprinted over to the Gryffindor table and sat down, twisting around to watch the rest of the Sorting. He turned a delicate shade of green when he saw the Slytherins, but gave James a thumbs-up that he readily returned.

"Bones, Amelia!" A strong-jawed girl made her way to the front, pushing her glasses up her nose. "HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. It continued in such a fashion until-

"Evans, Lily." James snapped to attention. Lily was her first name, eh? Her tiny red-headed form ran up the steps and jammed the hat onto her head. She was clearly eager to get this over and done with. The hat considered the contents of her brain for a moment, then Evans, Lily joined Gryffindor House. James let out a small groan. He heard someone else do the same, but didn't catch who. Sirius scooted over to make room for her, and she sat, then obviously recognized him from the train and huffily turned away from him. James smirked as Sirius made a face at the back of her head.

"Lupin, Remus." Remus made no move to go up; he had frozen. James prodded him gently, and he began moving forward stiffly. "Don't panic-calm down-you'll be fine-" he was whispering under his breath. James crossed his fingers. Remus sat down on the stool, wincing as it creaked-the hat fell over his eyes-the Hall was silent. "GRYFFINDOR!" the hat announced, almost immediately. James clapped ecstatically. If Peter was placed in Gryffindor, then they would all be there! He could deal with Evans if it meant he could have all of his friends with him, always. He had never really had friends before; he rather liked the experience.

It continued slowly, until, "Pettigrew, Peter." Peter clambered up the steps, tripping on the last one. James had to admire the dignity that he picked himself up with and continued forward like nothing had happened, despite the laughter and jeers (those were from Slytherin). James glared at them before returning his attention to Peter's Sorting. After a few minutes consideration... "GRYFFINDOR!" James cheered wildly.

There was silence. Who's next? he thought, glancing around. Then he realized everyone was staring at him. His eyes widened, and he exclaimed, "Oh!" before running up to the front and jamming the hat over as much of his face as he could.

James Potter.

Yes?

Where to put you...

Gryffindor. Duh.

Well. You've definitely got nerve, I'll give you that. Better be- "GRYFFINDOR!" James heard the hat shout that out to the rest of the hall. He grinned and leapt up, beginning to race to the table at which his friends were seated. He was halfway there before realizing that the voice shouting Put me back! was the hat, screaming in protest, still on his head. He spun around and brought it back, then ran twice as fast into Sirius, then seated himself beside his friend. The only downside was that he was sitting next to Evans.

He twisted around to watch the rest of the Sorting. "Snape, Severus!" Greasy boy Snivellus strode forward, looking just as much like a bat as ever. The hat barely touched his slimy head-good thing, too, otherwise it would be forever tainted-before shouting, "SLYTHERIN!" Snivellus joined the unpleasant looking crowd that was Slytherin.

Good thing, too, James thought, or else I would have to put up with him a heck of a lot more.


	3. Mail and Matchsticks

"Wake up."

"No, mom, go away."

"Wake up."

James flapped a hand in the general direction of The Voice and rolled over.

"James, if we are late to breakfast, so help me I will kill you."

"Breakfast?" James asked, sitting up. He groped around for his glasses, but the fingertips on his right hand met nothing but empty air. He looked around at his right side, but could see nothing but blurry shapes. "Where'd my glasses run off to?"

Someone roughly shoved his glasses onto his face, and the faces of three boys snapped into view sharply. James jumped. "Who are you?" They roared with laughter, and suddenly James remembered. "Oh! I'm at Hogwarts!" He leapt out of bed and scrambled to get ready.

"Why didn't you guys wake me up?" he whined, hopping down the stairs as he pulled on his shoes.

Remus replied, "We tried."

"You sleep like a rock," Sirius added helpfully. "A very abusive, grumpy rock." James pulled a face at him and shouldered his rucksack, clambering out of the portrait hole. He waved cheerily at the Fat Lady, who smiled sweetly and wiggled her fingers back at him. The four boys made their way down to the Great Hall.

"Where's Frank?" Peter asked. Frank Longbottom was the fifth Gryffindor first year boy. They had made fast friends with him, but his best friend since childhood was a girl, also in Gryffindor, named Alice Prewett. Apparently, they had grown up as next door neighbors in London. Frank was cheerful, eager, and a little clumsy, but he was also extremely smart and quick with his wand. Sirius had learned that the hard way, when he meant to try a jinx on James, but missed. From an incredibly uncomfortable position in which his legs were glued together and he was lying on the floor, Frank managed to hit Sirius with a well placed Bat-Bogey Hex.

Remus replied, "He got up before we did, I expect he's already down there. With Alice," he added with a smirk.

"Why are you smirking, Remie-pie?" Sirius asked.

"Remie-pie?" demanded Remus, pulling a face.

"Yes. Now answer my question."

"Can't you tell?" When the other three boys looked back at him blankly, he sighed. "It's obvious from the way he talked about her that he likes her."

"Don't friends... Usually like each other?" James asked.

"No, I meant-" Remus gave up, throwing his hands in the air. "You three are hopeless." James grinned and shoved Remus playfully.

"Ah, but you love us!" Sirius exclaimed, wrapping Remus in a hug. Remus stiffened and scowled at Sirius, who grinned up at him. James joined in the hug, and Peter did as well. Then they all shuffled off, Remus being their eyes.

"Left-no, Peter, your other left- straight, straight, STAIRS-okay, now turn right, and... Here we are! You can let go now."

"Nope!" Peter replied, popping the p. "Where shall we sit?"

James pulled them towards the table. "Now... How are we going to do this?" He considered his options. "Let's... Okay, legs up... Over... And... Okay we can't do this." They broke apart, Remus with a sigh of relief, and plopped down at the table.

"Owls!" Peter exclaimed, pointing at the ceiling. "Post is here!" James grinned up at the owls, then turned his grin to Sirius. His smile faltered when he saw Sirius, pale and sickened, eyeing one of the owls with distaste. It was a large, brown-black eagle owl; the biggest he'd ever seen. It's golden eyes glittered maliciously, but that wasn't what sent James' stomach swooping. Tied to its leg was a bright red envelope.

The owl settled down in Sirius' eggs and stuck its leg out to him. Sirius untied the letter with shaking fingers. As soon as he finished, the owl swiped one of his pieces of bacon and flew off again.

"Open it, Sirius," Peter implored. "It's worse if you don't..." Sirius slit open the letter, and sound exploded out of it.

_-JOINING THE MUDBLOODS AND FILTH, HOW DARE YOU. I EXPLICITLY TOLD YOU NOT TO DISGRACE OUR FAMILY, AND WHAT DO YOU DO? YOU TARNISH OUR FAMILY TREE BY ASSOCIATING WITH THE EXACT PEOPLE WE WORK SO HARD AGAINST. SIRIUS ORION BLACK, IF YOU PUT A TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT. HOME. THE MOST NOBLE AND ANCIENT HOUSE OF BLACK-_

James felt sick as he listened to Walburga Black's ringing scream, going on and on about blood traitors and how disgraceful Sirius was. It finished by spitting ink in his face and burning up. The hall was absolutely silent. James was sure he would've hear a quill drop. Sirius was glaring at the remnants of the Howler, bits of smouldering ash in his scrambled eggs. He was shaking with rage. James watched him worriedly.

"You have an owl," Sirius pointed out unexpectedly as the sound in the Great Hall rose to a deafening roar. James jumped. He had been so preoccupied with Sirius' predicament that he had failed to notice the family owl, Sammy, perched on the rim of his goblet with two letters tied to his legs. James untied him quickly, threw him the rest of his strip of bacon, and opened the heavier letter.

"What's this?" he mused, perusing the contents of the letter. "It's filled with questions and things!" he exclaimed.

"Really?" Remus asked, interested. "Read it aloud?"

"Sure! _Dear Fangirls and Others_

_Hello! My name is SiriuslyPsychic, and I'm the author of this story. You may very well be wondering why I'm writing a letter. It is an excellent question, to those who are wondering. To those who aren't, well, I can't make you wonder, now can I?_

_Or can I?_

_Anywho, the answer to the question is that I don't believe in authors notes, but I needed a way to get to you guys. So first is an announcement, then I'm responding to some readers._

_The announcement: I am completely rewriting this story. If you're new here, then great! Welcome to my world! ...technically, it belongs to JKRowling, but hey, I own plot points! So if there's anything from the old story that you didn't like, or something that you really want me to keep, or even just something you'd like to see, feel free to tell me! I'm open to prank ideas, too, so go ahead and tell me. Or if you just want me to mention you in the next letter, ask. I'll make sure you're in there._

_Now, to my faithful readers:_

_To my very first reviewer from July 2014, TheWritingHeart: I'm so glad you like my story! I totally agree with you about Lily and Hestia at the Potters'; it was actually one of the things that originally prompted_ _me to rewrite the story, and thank you so much for pointing that out, otherwise I might not have ever decided to rewrite._

_To MSupernatural: Thank you so much for your enthusiasm and faithfulness while I was writing this back in the summer of 2014. I'm so happy you liked how James got onto the team, and the duel-which, incidentally, I am planning on keeping._

_To GinnyPotterHermioneWeasley, Guest#1 (whoever you are), Doctor-Wizardly-Pineapple, not really sane fairy, luzhasswag, and yerawizardelsa: Thank you for your support, it was really nice to know that people actually liked what I wrote. It means so much to me, because you guys are strangers, you don't know who I am, and yet you're still complimenting my work. I wasn't sure that it was actually any good, but you guys pulled through. Thanks!_

_To Guest#2: Thank you for telling me about the seventies! It was very informative, and I'll make sure to keep that in mind when I reach that point in the story._

_To Mrs. Killian Jones pureblood: I'm glad you liked my references; I wasn't sure about them, but my inner fangirl won in the end. I'm so happy that it wasn't out of place or whatever._

_And, finally, to TheProductivePurplePrincess: It's great that you like it when I try to be fluffy and cute. I wasn't sure that it would really work for me, since my writing style isn't very serious to star with. It's been a point of endless anguish for my parents and teachers, since I lack the ability to look a writing assignment in the face and take it totally seriously. So I'm glad that it worked out!_

_I love you guys, I really do. Feel free to ask for something, and I'll do my best to incorporate your advice. To new readers, welcome! To old readers, welcome back! I hope you like my rewritten version more than the old one, and that you'll be just as awesome this time around (4,465 views is a lot more than I thought I would ever get!). _

_Farewell, my fans-in-arms, farewell!_

_SiriuslyPsychic_" James finished reading. "Okay, so no questions for us, but the writer seemed robe answering some... Maybe if we get another letter like this, there will be some questions for us to answer. It would be fun!"

"I hope they give us some prank ideas," Sirius said eagerly, Howler forgotten. "I can't wait to start pranking!" James grinned at him.

"James, you have another letter," Peter reminded him thickly (he had just taken a bite of toast). James used a marmalade covered knife to slit open the next one and carefully withdrew the letter within.

_Jamsie,_

_How are you? We miss you, but it's certainly very peaceful here. *grins* Try not to get into too much trouble, it's only your first day. We'll see you for Christmas._

_Love, Mum and Dad_

James smirked at the letter, certain that his father had written the first part. His mother had obviously snatched it away after that, judging by the ink streaks. And the fact that the handwriting abruptly changed from print to cursive. He folded up the letter and stuck it in his pocket, along with the other, and they made their way to their first class: Transfiguration, with the Hufflepuffs.

"Transfiguration is one of the most complex, and dangerous, magics you will learn here at Hogwarts," instructed Professor McGonagall. She was prowling back and forth at the front of the room. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave, and they won't be coming back. You have been warned." James, who had been preparing to shoot a colour-change ink pellet from his wand, hastily took said ink pellet off the tip of his wand and stuffed it back into its container. He had been looking forward to Transfiguration, ever since Ollivander had told him that his wand would be good at it.

Professor McGonagall waved her wand, and _POOF_, her desk was a pig. "Whoa!" James breathed. He clutched his wand and waited for her to tell them how she did it.

Alas, he was disappointed. "You are all to turn this matchstick into a needle by the end of class," she instructed, handing out matchsticks after they had taken a lot of notes (James' hand was cramping up). James pouted but took the needle and concentrated hard. As he spoke the incantation, he jabbed his wand at the matchstick. Suddenly it was all silver and pointy.

"Remus?"

"I'm trying to concentrate, James." And that he was. His face was slowly turning pink as he stared at his matchstick intently.

"But, Remus, this is important."

Remus sighed and turned to James. "What is it?"

"Is this what a needle looks like?" James held up his silvery pointy matchstick. Remus' eyes widened.

"James, how'd you do that?" he asked, taking the matchstick and examining it. "And, to answer your question, yes, this is what a needle looks like," he added with a smirk, handing it back and then performing the spell himself. James stuck his tongue out at him, but was startled by a yelp from Professor McGonagall.

She rushed over to their table, and James opened his mouth to tell her about his needle, but she ran straight past him, stopping abruptly in front of Sirius and snatching his matchstick from him. A tiny flame danced at the top.

"Mr. Black, can you recall what I told you at the beginning of class?"

"...yes."

"And, what did I say?"

Sirius mumbled something, hiding behind his shaggy black hair.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that."

Sirius looked her squarely in the eye and stated, "Anyone who messes around in your class will be asked to leave, and they won't be invited to return."

"Correct. However, since today is your first lesson, I will allow you to stay-" Sirius began to look hopeful, "-if you can demonstrate the spell." Sirius shrugged.

Jabbing his wand at the smouldering matchstick, he clearly pronounced the incantation, and the matchstick morphed into a melted-looking needle. Professor McGonagall held it up to the light. "Well done, Mr. Black. Has anyone else managed the spell?" Both James and Remus raised their hands, then looked around to see if anyone else had. Evans. That was it. Professor McGonagall collected up their needles and examined each one thoroughly before awarding twenty points to Gryffindor.

"That was fun!" James said, his eyes aglow with excitement. "I've never been to a school before, or gotten _homework_. Remus, what's homework like?" James liked saying it. Homework. It was new and exciting.

"It's just like it sounds," Remus replied, briskly walking up to a second year and asking where the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Coming back, he continued, "It's class work, but outside of class. And it's typically written."

Sirius cautiously asked, "Meaning...?"

"It's not practical. It's in the form of a written assignment," he explained, seeing the confusion written on their faces.

James' eyes widened in excitement. "Cool! I've never gotten a _written assignment_ before!" Remus smirked and opened the door, leading the way to the seats in the very back corner.

Soon, the classroom was filled with Gryffindors and Slytherins; Slytherins keeping to the right side of the room, Gryffindors on the left. James noticed that Evans was seated on the front most desk farthest to the right on their side of the aisle, and Snivellus was seated on the other side of the aisle.

The door creaked open, slowly, tension building as the first years craned their necks to get their first proper look at the wizard teaching probably the most important class they would have. James was disappointed, and he saw his sentiments reflected on every single crest-fallen face in the room.

Professor John Stevenson looked like-and there is no better comparison-a turtle. A very old, very bald, very wrinkly turtle. Professor Stevenson was small and frail-looking, his shoulders hunched over with age. His face was etched with lines deeper than Cheddar Gorge, his lips pulled in over what James was sure were dentures, and large, round bifocals were perched on the bridge of his beaky-looking nose. The entire turtle-y appearance was topped off spectacularly by the swamp-green robes he wore, robes that trailed behind him because they were too long.

_Dear Merlin,_ James thought sadly. _He even moves slowly_. And that he did; he took short, shuffling steps through the centre aisle towards the front of the room. _How is he supposed to teach us to defend ourselves, if he can't even run?_ James could see his thoughts echoed on Sirius, Remus, and Peter's faces as their eyes followed Professor Stevenson's slow gait.

When he finally reached the teacher's desk at the very front of the room, he turned painstakingly lethargically and peered around at them all through his thick lenses. James took off his own circular glasses for a second, to make sure they weren't as thick as Professor Stevenson's, and pushed them hastily back onto his face.

Professor Stevenson licked his lips, opened his mouth, exposing what James hoped were gums, and began to speak at the same pace as the rest of him; sluggishly. "My name... Is John Stevenson. I am here to... Teach you all... To defend yourselves against... What is out there." James raised his hand eagerly. "Yes, Mr...?"

"Potter, sir. I was just wondering, what exactly is out there? I mean, I got the gist of it, but I want to know exactly what we're up against."

Professor Stevenson studied James through his bifocals carefully before replying, "There are Dark Forces everywhere, Mr. Potter. What is out there today... Is no different than... Any other point in time." James could feel the lie, but he didn't say anything. His mother's written words flashed through his mind, _Try not to get into too much trouble, it's only your first day_. And Sirius' mother's screams, _IF YOU PUT A TOE OUT OF LINE, WE'LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT. HOME_. James merely nodded and sat back in his chair. The old man-seriously, how does one even get to live that old?-continued. "Therefore, it is my job... To not only cover certain Dark Creatures... But also to teach you some basic counter-curses, jinxes, hexes, and antidotes... Should you ever... Need them." He glanced at them all drearily, then instructed them to take out their notebooks, quills, and ink.

"Oh, dear Merlin," Sirius groaned in relief as soon as they stepped into the bustling crowds, which were such a stark contrast to the monotonous classroom they had just exited. "I think my brain keeled over and _died_ due to an overload of boring."

"It wasn't that bad," protested Remus steadfastly.

Peter piped up, "Just cause you think all teachers are saints-"

"Do not!"

"Do too!" Peter insisted. "You had this expression on your face, your eyes were all big and shiny and your mouth was half open, it was like you where seeing-" he switched his voice to a dreamy, fluffy falsetto- "-an angel coming down from the clouds, in a white robe, with big fluffy wings-" Peter squeaked and ran as Remus lunged for him, but did so on his tiptoes, his arms extended like a ballerina. James and Sirius roared with laughter.

"I hope the other classes aren't that dull," Sirius sighed, sitting down and piling his dinner plate with everything he could reach. "What about you?"

"I think he was hiding something," James replied firmly. Sirius looked at him quizzically, but said nothing. His cheeks were stuffed with potato, so James was grateful. However, another person sat down across from him.

"You thought so too?" James looked around to find Evans sitting across from him, putting a nice, healthy portion of salad (of all the things she could have had!). She watched him expectantly.

"Yeah." James helped himself to shepherd's pie. "I mean, my dad's an Auror, and my mum's a Healer-"

"A what and a what?" James looked her squarely in the eye. _She's got to be pulling my leg... Oh dear, no she's not._

"Like... Um... Law enforcement and medicine?" James looked to Remus for conformation. Remus nodded. James continued, "Anyhow, they bring their work home with them sometimes, so, yeah, I'm pretty sure Stevenson is hiding something." Evans nodded, picked up her plate, and left to join some other girls.


	4. Sitting Alone in a Room

_You can get help from teachers, but you are going to have to learn a lot by yourself, sitting alone in a room._

_-Dr. Seuss_

Peter scurried ahead. "Come _on_, guys, this way!" he groaned, running back to them and then pulling ahead again. "Come on, I don't want to be late!" James smirked. Peter had been looking forward to Astronomy all week. It was now Wednesday night, and they were making their way to the Astronomy tower for their first lesson.

Peter loved the idea of space-vast, uncontrolled, endless, mysterious, untainted. The stars fascinated him, their patterns were a source of constant amazement, the planets that orbited them held no end of wonder. If someone would let him, Peter could talk about space for hours on end. James grinned as he looked into Peter's face, usually pointed and rat-like, but now shining with the fullness that excitement had lent it. Sirius barked a laugh and ran to catch up with Peter. James and Remus exchanged amused glances before taking off after them, laughing all the way.

"...think she'll let us use the telescopes?" Peter was asking excitedly to no one in particular as they waited outside the door that concealed the staircase.

"Oh, I hope so!" replied Evans. Her cheeks were flushed pink with excitement that rivalled Peter's. "I wonder what we'll be studying first," she mused. Her green eyes grew distant as she dreamt of the wonders Astronomy had in store.

Peter answered knowledgeably, "I expect we'll be starting with the closer formations, like the Moon, and then..." James watched him gush about space with Evans. He was glad to see Peter opening up a bit; he could be quite shy at the most inopportune moments, and it made him an easy target for the older Slytherins. Even though they had already been at school for three whole days, plus the night they were Sorted, Evans was the first person, outside Sirius, Remus, and himself, that Peter had actually exchanged more than a quiet "hello" with.

James met Sirius' eye, and knew that he was thinking the same thing. Remus joined their conversation, since Peter had been looking uneasy at first. Evans was now telling a story, about stars, it seemed. As she told it, she was gesticulating wildly.

"...a son of the sea god, Poseidon, and was a mighty hunter. He single-handedly rid an island called Chios of wild, rabid, monstrous beasts, with teeth as long as a wand and sharp as Gryffindor's sword, and eyes that glowed like embers, and fur that was ragged and matted. He was so good a hunter, in fact, that Artemis, goddess of the hunt, the moon, and wild creatures, invited him to hunt with her on Crete. However, the lovely goddess of the dawn, Eos, was there too, and she fell hopelessly in love with him. Artemis became quite jealous, and, in a rage, sent a massive scorpion to sting him. Only afterwards, when it was too late, Artemis realised what she had done, and she imprinted his image in the stars. To this day, Orion the Hunter flees Scorpio across the heavens," she finished with a dramatic drop in her voice. Peter's eyes were wide with awe, and Remus leaned forward.

"Evans-"

"Lily," she corrected cheerily. James saw Snivellus, who had also been listening, scowl.

"Alright then, Lily," Remus continued, smiling slightly, "can you tell me more about Artemis? She sounds cool."

"Oh, yes, she's my favourite!" Evans agreed excitedly. "Like I said, she's the goddess of the hunt, the moon, and all wild creatures. She's also the goddess of virgins, and-"

"Virgins?" James asked. "What's a virgin?" Slowly, Evans, Snivellus, Remus, Sirius, and Peter all turned to stare at him. Evans and Sirius were both turning red, but for different reasons-Evans was stammering uncomfortably, while Sirius was obviously struggling to hold in a laugh.

Remus began explaining, slowly, as if talking to a five-year-old. "Well, James, a virgin is a person who hasn't... Um..." Remus, too, began flushing. "How do I say this?" he asked desperately.

"James, a virgin is a person who hasn't had sex," Peter stated bluntly. Sirius stared at him.

"Wow, Peter, didn't know you had it in you. Well, there you go, Jamsie-" Sirius broke off, howls of laughter sending him, gasping, to his knees. James' hazel eyes had widened considerably behind his glasses, which were giving them a greater effect.

"Evans, do you mind changing the subject?" he pleaded.

"'Course not," she replied briskly. "Artemis had a group of maiden hunters, called the Hunters of Artemis, who swore vows of eternal maiden-ness in exchange for remaining young forever, or at least until they broke their vow or were killed in action."

"Cool!" Sirius exclaimed. "Can I be one?"

Snivellus raised an eyebrow coolly. "Maidens, Black," he drawled, flicking his lank hair from his face. James instinctively flinched away, thinking, It would suck to get Essence of Snivellus on me. Sirius, however, looked broken-hearted.

"Why is Artemis so sexist?" he whined. He kicked at Snivellus in annoyance. "Thanks for raining on my parade, Snivellus."

"My pleasure, Black." In stark contrast to Snivellus' indifferent response, Evans was slowly reddening in anger.

"Don't call him that!" she snapped. "What did Sev ever do to you?"

James felt a rush of annoyance. "Merlin, Evans. It's just teasing. Why not get that stick out of your-"

"Language, James," Remus sighed, twirling his quill disinterestedly.

"-and take a joke?" James plowed on heatedly.

"Unwelcome joking around is bullying," she replied loftily, sticking her nose in the air and crossing her arms. James, incensed at her aloofness, whipped his wand out and clenched it in his fist. Evans quirked a condescending eyebrow at it. "Really, Potter? Going to resort to mundane means of resolving conflict?"

James growled and pointed his wand directly at her face. She stared right down the end of it and barely flinched when sparks flew from the tip.

Just as Professor Oglethorpe walked in through the door.

"Potter!" James jumped and spun, tripping over his shoes.

"Yessir!" James shouted. Oglethorpe was a big, burly man, bald, with a mustache and goatee on his square jaw. His giant biceps strained against his robes. He looked like the kind of guy his mother had shown him pictures of, from Muggle action... Picture sound things. The guy who would be the last man standing, shooting down wave after wave of enemies, with an endless supply of ammunition, yelling something... What had Mum said? Oh, yeah. "ASTA LA VISTA, BABY."

"Don't let me ever catch you with your wand pointed at another human being. Ever."

"Yessir." Professor Oglethorpe considered him shrewdly, then nodded and gestured for the class to follow him upstairs. James did so quietly. He liked school so far, and didn't want to get kicked out quite yet.

James tried to listen. He really did. But he just didn't see what was so important about some dots in the sky getting together and making a picture. It was just not very interesting. He did try to act enthusiastic, because Peter was so happy.

And Oglethorpe kept an annoyingly close watch on him.

But it made him feel like a considerably better person if he chose to focus on the first reason, so that's what he did. He looked at the little dots through his telescope, he raised his hand to answer questions, he read the star charts in his book, he got appropriately excited when Sirius found a star that shared his name.

But it all went spiraling down with his telescope when it went flying over the edge of the Astronomy Tower.

James was poring over his map of Jupiter, trying to locate some red dot, when someone knocked into him. He pitched forward, barely keeping his hold on the railing. His glasses dangled off his face, and he hastily swung himself upward and shoved them back up his nose. Then he saw something teetering on the edge of his vision.

He watched it happen in slow motion. His telescope was perched precariously on the edge of the parapet, swaying back and forth—it was about to fall—he lunged for it—his fingers brushed the cool metal-it tumbled off the tower.

"No!" he gasped, making a wild grab for it. His fingers nearly found purchase on the rim around the lens, and for a moment, he thought they did—but it slipped through his grasp like butter, and his telescope spun down into shadows as it neared the ground.

"Is everything alright?" A deep voice came from behind him, causing James to spin around furiously. "Mr. Potter, where has your telescope run off to?"

"It didn't run off to anywhere-" he began angrily.

He was interrupted by a snide voice, drawling, "It decided to fly away, Professor Oglethorpe." James turned a glare on Snivellus, who was smirking with unmasked glee.

James protested, "Someone knocked into me, Professor, and my poor telescope got the brunt of their carelessness."

"It's true, Professor," piped up Hestia Jones, one of the girls in Gryffindor. "I saw it happen."

"I see," he mused, walking towards Jones. "And—Miss Jones, is it?—yes, Miss Jones, can you tell me who the perpetrator was?"

"I didn't see," Jones muttered. "Wish I had, though."

"Did anyone else?" Evans raised her hand timidly. "Miss Evans! Did you see them?"

Evans readily answered, "No one could see who did it because it was a group of people." Did she shoot an angry look at Snivellus when she said this? And a group of people implied that it wasn't accidental... James' anger was slowly mounting.

Sirius, whose face reflected James' burning desire to hex someone, snapped, "Well, it doesn't take much of an intellect to figure out which group of people would want to knock James off the Astronomy Tower."

Professor Oglethorpe raised his eyebrows skeptically and crossed his arms. "Are you accusing someone, Mr. Black, without having any proof?"

"If I may, Professor," Remus interjected quietly. He waited until the large and admittedly scary man nodded his approval before elaborating, "there is some proof, if you look at the facts."

"Such as?" prompted Oglethorpe. James realised what he was doing—he already knew what Remus and Sirius were getting at. He was doing his job: teaching.

Peter burst out, "Such as the fact that James' dad is one of the most pro-Muggle Aurors out there. Can't make too many supremacists happy, can it?"

"Exactly. And there are plenty of students here who come from supremacist families, so some of their views are bound to rub off, and who better to make their point on than James, who is the son of one of the leading figures in the campaign for-"

"But Potter's such a jerk, there are probably plenty of people here who want to shove him off the Tower," Snivellus interrupted hastily. James noticed his eyes flick over to Evans, panicky, and wondered what that was about, but he was more preoccupied by Snivellus' words: "Potter's such a jerk..." Was he really?

James snapped, "Well, you'd say that, wouldn't you, Snape, seeing how you're all cuddly with those supremacists?"

"Students!" Oglethorpe barked impatiently. "Mr. Potter, detention for targeting another student. Furthermore, I will take fifty points from Slytherin—unless someone pleads guilty." What is this, a court case? "You have ten seconds. Ten, nine," We're not five, Oglethorpe, "seven, six, five-"

"Alright! I did it, it was me," muttered a stocky, blonde boy who looked a bit like an elephant, with big ears and a long nose. "And I don't regret it in the slightest. I am proud of being pure blooded, as you should be," he added nastily, shooting Sirius a nasty look that Sirius returned wholeheartedly.

"Your name?"

The boy turned his venomous glare on Oglethorpe. "You know exactly who I am," he spat.

"Your name." Oglethorpe looked absolutely furious now, as he drew himself to his full, towering height. The image he exuded was an impressive one—his thick brow was drawn together, his square jaw was set, his eyes narrowed.

The boy defiantly held Professor Oglethorpe's gaze for a moment—then lowered his eyes and muttered, "Mulciber." His voice was filled with undisguised hate. Oglethorpe nodded and beckoned for Mulciber to follow him.

"The rest of you," he instructed, "class is dismissed. Have a good night." James stuffed his things into his rucksack irritably. Now he was going to have to get a new telescope; he was sure his was broken. On top of that—detention. Great. He could see his mother's letter now:

Dear James,

Detention? Really? Honey, I thought we warned you not to get into trouble! Keep your nose clean, mister. Or I'll... I'll... I'll do something! Mark my words!

Love from,

Mum

James sighed in resignation and went to Professor Oglethorpe's office. The door was closed. James raised a hand and knocked politely; Lesson thirteen: always be polite to your elders. Especially if you're in trouble, he thought bitterly, remembering his mother's lectures on manners. The door swung open abruptly. Mulciber stormed out, knocking into James and sending him spinning into a wall.

"Oi!" yelped Sirius, rushing forward to James' side. Sirius glared at Mulciber for a moment before clucking like a mother hen and brushing James' shoulders worriedly. James smirked at him, and he stopped, blowing a raspberry for good measure.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?" inquired Professor Oglethorpe.

James looked at his feet as he reminded him, "My detention, sir."

"Ah, yes." Professor Oglethorpe. "It took great character to remind me of your punishment. Ten points to Gryffindor. And, twenty points to your friends, for making an excellent case in defense of their Housemate." Sirius, Remus, Peter, and James shared a grin. "Mr. Potter... Mr. Pringle's rheumatism is acting up again, poor fellow. You shall serve your detention on Saturday at eight pm, cleaning the trophy room. No magic."

"Yessir!" James exclaimed. Not even several hours' worth manual labor could dampen his mood now—thirty points for Gryffindor!

That Saturday, James awoke with apprehension weighing on his stomach. Or that could've been Sirius, who was perched on James' midsection, yelling, "Get up, get up, get up!"

"Why?" James groaned. "It's Saturday."

"Today is a very big day!" Sirius insisted, pushing his face toward James'. James pulled his pillow over his head.

"Why is today such a big day?" Remus queried, pulling on socks.

Sirius straightened up abruptly, causing James to groan in discomfort, and held an index finger high in the air. "Today is the day that James becomes the first Marauder to serve-" he gasped dramatically. "-a detention!"

James heard the rustle of sheets as Peter sat up. "Marauder? What's a marauder?"

Remus explained, "A marauder is a person who marauds, or a raider."

"As always," Sirius replied drily, "Remus sounds like he's swallowed the dictionary. But, yes, a marauder is, in essence, a land pirate."

"And why, dare I ask," Remus muttered, "are you referring to us as such?"

Sirius sighed. "Because, it sounds cool. Duh. Also, we need to have a name."

"Why?" Peter asked, flopping back down onto his sheets. James sat up, because his stomach was starting to hurt—Sirius tumbled from the bed with a yelp. "Why can't we just be... People?"

"Because we're not just people!" exclaimed Sirius. "People are boring. We're not! We're going to leave this place as Hogwarts Legends, mark my words!"

James paused in buttoning his shirt to snatch up a scrap of parchment and scribble, we're going to leave this place as Hogwarts Legends! Then he put a squiggle across it and sarcastically said, "Consider them marked," as he threw the parchment at Sirius. He then finished buttoning his shirt.

Remus pressed, "But why Marauders?"

"We are going to be the best—and worst—troublemakers Hogwarts has ever known!" announced Sirius, leaping up onto Remus' bed, but falling backwards as the mattress caved under him. James laughed, and Sirius sat up, red-faced. "Not funny," he muttered.

Their tall, gawky friend sighed. "Really, Sirius? You want to be known for having the most detentions, causing the most problems, and acquiring the most enemies?"

"Yup!"

James began to nod. "Yeah, I'm down with that."

Remus' eyes widened. "James!"

"But, Remus, can't you see it?" Peter persisted excitedly. "Messrs. Remus, Peter, Sirius, and James—Pranking Extraordinaire's!" James nodded enthusiastically. "We could be famous, Remus! We can make a difference in this school! I mean, we could be those kids, the ones who do what they're told quietly, keep their noses clean, who nobody notices. Or we could be those kids, the ones that made history. We could..." Peter gasped. "We could be in the next edition of Hogwarts-A History!"

Remus' eyes lit up. The thought of being in a book was appealing to him, James could see it plain as day.

"Alright," Remus conceded. "But we have to figure out code names somehow. I really don't want to be expelled."

"None of us do, mate." Sirius patted Remus on the head. "Now—off to breakfast!"

"But I still haven't got my pants on!" James whined.

"Too bad!" Sirius replied cheerfully, grabbing James' wrist and tugging him towards the door. James fought valiantly: there was no way he was going down there without is pants. Alas, Sirius was not only four inches taller, but also broader in the shoulder and was of a considerably more muscular build. Paired with his exuberance, Sirius Black was unstoppable.

James had fortunately managed to pull his pants up before entering the common room, but had to deal with several odd looks from other boys as he hopped down the stairs, one hand held captive by Sirius, the other struggling to button his trousers. They were sitting under a beech tree by the lake when Remus asked,

"Why do we need a group name, Sirius?"

Sirius groaned. "I thought we went over this!"

"No," Remus argued, "we went over the group name itself. But why do we need one at all?"

"Because it's already there?" Peter tried, hoping to avert an argument. James nodded, grinning.

Sirius harrumphed, crossing his arms sulkily. "It's cause all of the cool people in the muggle world have group names."

"What?" Remus laughed. "No they don't."

"Yeah! Those groups that are famous, ya know?"

Remus quirked an eyebrow. "You mean bands?"

"No," Sirius moaned. "The ones that are all tough-guy people!"

James laughed. "I think the word you're looking for, Sirius, is gangs."

"What?" Sirius gasped. "No!"

Peter insisted, "Um, yes."

"We're not a gang!"

"I should hope not," Remus snorted.

Sirius pouted, "I still think we should have a name."

"I agree. Stop being a party pooper, Remus," James scolded playfully. Remus clapped a hand to his heart and made a wounded face, screaming,

"James! You wound me!" James laughed. He looked around at his friends, and it struck him.

He had never had friends before. His parents, sure. But they didn't really count, did they? Not, at least, when it came to what James was thinking of. He was thinking of people of his age, and his interests, who wouldn't patronise him, or treat him differently. He had never had people like that before.

But it was nice.

James made his way down to the trophy room, feeling much better about his detention than he had on receiving it. He even skipped, waving cheerfully at the Bloody Baron as he pranced past.

He had never seen the bloodstained, moody ghost look more confused.

When he reached the trophy room, the caretaker, Apollyon Pringle, was already there, sitting in a chair. The old man scowled. "You're early."

"You know," James pointed out, "most people would see that as a good thing."

"Humph," grunted Mr. Pringle. He adjusted his scarf. "Well then. You see this?" He held up a bottle with a nozzle at the end. James nodded. "It's the cleaning stuff. As far as you're concerned, that is what it's called. You see this, boy?" He shook a raggedy looking...rag...in the air. "This is the rag. Again, that's what it's called. To clean something, you spray it with the cleaning stuff–you know how to do that, right?" he asked suspiciously.

James scoffed, "I'm not stupid, you know."

"If you say so. Anyways, you spray it, then you wipe it. Got that? Here, then. You're to clean every single trophy here. I want to see my face sparkling in each and every one of them when you're done."

Under his breath, James muttered, "Why would you want to do that?" Nevertheless, he began scrubbing each trophy until it shone like moonlight. For nearly an hour, he worked in silence. But he came across a trophy that made him pause.

"Sir?" he asked.

"Eh?"

"Who's Tom Riddle?"

Mr. Pringle rose creakily—James could've sworn he heard the old man's joints squeak—and shuffled over. "Well, he got an award for special services to the school, didn't he?" he grunted.

"Yes, but what for?"

"For doing a special service to the school." James rolled his eyes and got back to work. Something about the name seemed familiar, and he couldn't quite put his finger on it. The rest of the detention passed without excitement, and he headed back up to Gryffindor Tower, exhausted and reeking of lemons.

"James!" Sirius pounced on him before he even fully entered their dorm. "How did it go? What did you learn?"

"Merlin, Sirius, stop being my mum, I've already got one," James groaned.

Remus snickered, "James, don't be such a sourpuss. You smell lovely, by the way." James kicked at him half heartedly.

"I learned... How to make stuff shiny," James decided after a moment's consideration. "Hey—does the name Tom Riddle seem familiar at all?" Out of habit, he glanced at Remus first; Remus always had the answers, he was practically a walking encyclopaedia. But his incredibly gangly, shockingly scarred friend shook his head. Peter shrugged. Shockingly enough, it was Sirius who supplied the answer.

"Oh yeah. Much too familiar," he spat bitterly. "Tom Riddle is only the most famous supremacist of our time. He's, like, my parents' hero."

James frowned. "I thought You-Know-Who was the most famous supremacist of our time."

"He is," confirmed Remus. They all looked at Sirius.

"Yup. Don't take no more than two brain cells to connect the dots," he prompted.

Peter's mouth fell open. "You mean Tom Riddle is You-Know-Who?" Sirius nodded, kicking at his trunk sulkily.

"Stupid muggle haters. All of this "purity of blood" crap makes me sick." He began twisting at his covers angrily.

"Wait," James said. "If he's You-Know-Who, how come he's got an award for special services to the school?" Remus' eyebrows flew up.

"How long ago?" he asked. James could see his hand creeping towards his copy of Hogwarts-A History.

"Um..." James strained his memory. "Um... Thirty years ago? Yeah. Thirty." Remus flipped his book open with such haste that one of his pages ripped ("Merlin's pants.") and ran his finger down the table of contents.

"Argh!" he moaned. "There's nothing more recent than 1914. I'll go to the library tomorrow."

Sirius sat up. "No! You can't do that!"

"Why not?" whined Remus. James could see that being kept from the library horrified him.

"Because!" James answered, leaping onto Remus' bed and pushing his face towards Remus'. "Tomorrow, we begin planning our first prank!"


	5. In Which There is Lots of Scheming

_I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny, but we can have lots of good fun that is funny._

_-Dr. Seuss_

James skipped into the Great Hall the next day, shoving Sirius playfully and laughing. Sirius stumbled into a smaller human, who snapped, "Watch it, Black."

Sirius straightened up, and James poked his head over his friend's shoulder. Ah. Evans. "Sorry, Evans!" Sirius replied cheerfully. "I'm just glad I bumped into you and not your friend... No offence. It's just that I just took a shower last night, and I really do love my hair."

Evans growled and stepped on Sirius' foot before stomping away, nose in the air, with Snivellus trailing sulkily after her. James snorted. "Well, looks like we've found our victim," he breathed deviously. Sirius grinned.

Remus poked James' shoulder. "C'mon, James. I thought we agreed: no lasting harm." James rolled his eyes as Remus continued to preach, "Do you want to be known here as a bully?"

"No, Remus," James assured him. "We just want to make sure we get him before he gets us."

Peter, who had just arrived, puffing slightly, reminded them, "His little friends already got us, remember? You nearly fell off the Astronomy Tower—excellent lesson, by the way. Did you see Jupiter? It looked lovely—" Peter stopped abruptly, his watery blue eyes following Sirius' eyebrows as they creeped closer and closer to his hairline. "Er, I mean, you nearly fell off the Astronomy Tower, and I know for a fact that wasn't an accident, or they would've apologised. So, see Remus? We're only making things fair." James was impressed. Peter didn't look it, but he could be clever if he wanted to be.

James clapped his hands and rubbed them together, eager to begin. "So. First prank. It's gotta be a good one, or it'll be lame, and that would suck."

"Yes, James. Being lame would suck. Thank you so much for that enlightening bit of information," Remus deadpanned. James grinned at him.

"Enlightening is my forte, Remus. Now. Down to business. What would be different?"

Sirius leaned forward. "Shampoo should be involved." On receiving bemused reactions, he continued, "Since he's such a greasy little git. And I really do love my hair," he added. Sirius ran a hand through his shaggy black hair, slowing down exaggeratedly and striking a ridiculous pose. James made a tiny whoosh noise to accompany him. Sirius laughed his now familiar, bark-like laugh and continued, "Obviously, we can't use ours. It would be much too manly to use on- AND that is how you tie a tie, Peter." Sirius switched topics quickly as Professor McGonagall passed. Under her hawk-like gaze, he straightened his Gryffindor tie in such a way that even James believed that he had just been instructing Peter on how to properly tie a tie. "Now, show me." Peter knotted his tie perfectly—he was actually excellent at it. It was James that was rubbish at tying anything, from his shoelaces to a bow on a Christmas present. Remus usually did it for him.

They waited until the Head of Gryffindor House had passed before dropping their voices to a whisper and moving away. "As I was saying, our hair products are much too manly to even dream of using them on a being such as Snivellus, so we must find some unmanly shampoo."

"So... The girls?" James asked. "They always smell like flowers..." James trailed off at his friends' incredulous looks. "What?" he asked defensively. "Evans sits in front of me in History of Magic, and Binns is as about as boring as an old person reading a history textbook... Which I suppose he is," he mused, staring at nothing. He snapped to attention. "My point is, they probably all smell at least somewhat like she does, which is nowhere near manly, I assure you."

Remus was studying the people around them intently. Suddenly, his eyes alighted on a prefect, and he gasped. "James, you're brilliant, but I can top that."

"How?!" James protested indignantly.

"Him," Remus said, surreptitiously pointing out the prefect. "Oh, and from now on, when pointing out new people, we should give name, house, year, and why we are pointing him or her out, so this is a perfect example... Sixth year Prefect. Slytherin. Name, Lucius Malfoy. He loves his hair almost more than anything... Only beat by his love for purity of blood and his girlfriend, Narcissa Black. Actually," Remus muttered, "it may beat his girlfriend."

Sirius cackled, "Sorry, Cissy. She's my cousin," he added helpfully. "Right there, he's going up to her... Narcissa Black, fifth year Slytherin Prefect–hey, what's he doing? Oh my—ewwww." Sirius turned away, giggling madly. "Wait till 'Dromeda hears this..." James, Remus, and Peter turned away in disgust at the very public display of affection.

"So..." Peter brought them back to the matter at hand. "Slytherin prefect who loves his hair more than almost anything, including his girlfriend. Slytherin wand-up-his-arse slimeball in desperate need of a wash. Add that up, you get..." His pointed face lit up with glee. "A very good vengeance prank."

"An excellent vengeance prank, I'd wager," James added proudly. "Splendid synopsis, Mr. Peter, if I do say so myself."

"Why thank you, Mr. James. Mr. Remus, would you care to take over?"

"Not at all, Mr. Peter. Mr. Sirius, my dear fellow, would you mind sneaking around a bit to get the Slytherin password?"

"Not at all, Mr. Remus."

"Actually," James began slowly. "You may not have to do much sneaking around."

James was incredibly nervous. He had never shown it to anyone: he had never had any friends to show it to. But it was incredibly precious to him; it was a gift from his father, and he kept all of the gifts from his father close because they were few and far between. But now, he had friends to share his secrets with. Growing up with no one but a sock puppet to share secrets with had made him long for human closeness, something he had never quite had.

He knew his parents loved him, and he loved them more than anything. But his father was an Auror, his mother a Healer. Their efforts were always much needed, and they had to be everywhere at once. On several occasions, he had woken up to hear his father swearing as he tumbled down the stairs in the pitch black of night, rushing to the rescue. His father was a superhero. There were days when he would be eating breakfast with his mother, hoping that, for once, he might be able to spend a day with her, like other children could with their mothers, and someone's Patronus would flash in through the kitchen window, and she would be out the door in a flash, kissing his forehead hurriedly.

Sometimes, he didn't even get that.

So he resolved that, from now on, James Potter would be a library book. You could pluck him off the shelf, scan the synopsis on his back cover, then open him up to read. And, as long as you put him back in excellent condition, anyone could do the same. James liked the sound of that. He considered even writing an autobiography, or, Merlin forbid, a diary, just so he could say that he was an open book.

James cautiously lead his friends into the dormitory. Glancing around to make sure Frank wasn't there, he snapped the door shut and locked it. It wasn't that he didn't like Frank, or didn't trust him. But they were pretty casual friends. Not best friends. Frank had Alice, and James had the Marauders. "Okay," he began slowly. "I'm gonna show you something, but you can't tell anyone. It's really important." They nodded vigorously, their faces eager and resolved. "Okay. Okay..."

"James, you've said 'okay' three times in the past minute," Remus informed him dryly. "It's getting a bit repetitive." James laughed. He was grateful for Remus' comment; it was relieving the tension and nervousness that had crept into his bones.

James flung open the lid of his trunk and withdrew the precious package. He hadn't yet used it at Hogwarts... And he reckoned that this prank would be the perfect initiation. Gingerly, he turned to face them: Remus, whose arms were crossed, whose face was brooding, scarred, and excited. Sirius, who perched on his bed, leaning forward eagerly to glimpse the contents of the package. Peter, who was trembling in excitement, his pointed nose quivering the slightest bit. James untied the string slowly—Remus began humming absentmindedly—and let the brown paper packaging tumble to the floor, to rest with the string amongst socks and textbooks. James shook it out, and they gasped.

Sirius toppled off the bed in his excitement. "James," he gasped, "that's an Invisibility Cloak!"

"Yes," replied James, "I know." Sirius chuckled, but then was again transfixed by the fluttering silver cloak in James' fingers. James cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I thought we could use it for pranks, cause, you know..." He trailed off a bit. "It makes you invisible."

"That's why it's called an Invisibility Cloak, James," breathed Remus, but James could tell that he, too, was awed. His eyes sparkled and a silly grin was stretching across his face. "May I...?" James handed the Cloak to him, and Remus' smile widened to the point where his scars almost disappeared. He looked infinitely younger, his pine green eyes glinted with mischief, his face lit up with boyish glee. "James, this is extraordinary!" he exclaimed, his voice breathy. "Where ever did you get it?"

"And, more importantly, when can we start using it?" Peter added. "I can just see it—we could go anywhere, see anything. Only Dumbledore can stop us now!"

James gasped. "Oh! Oh! I have an idea, I do!"

"James, no one is stopping you from saying it," Remus pointed out. "We're not in class or anything."

James flushed pink but continued. "We could be vigilantes! What if, at least at first, we didn't say it was us? And then we go about pranking the supremacist gits, under cover. We could be, like, the Merry Men of Hogwarts!" Peter nodded enthusiastically, Sirius grinned evilly, and Remus slowly began to nod.

"But... Where will we get code names from?" he asked.

James shrugged. "For now, we should just sign the Marauders. Then, we can come up with code names, like next year, and then BOOM we sign it Messers. Blank, Blank, Blank, and Blank, without signing Marauders. Then, in third year, we can do both. Then, in fourth year, we reveal our true identities!" James concluded dramatically.

Sirius exclaimed, "Yeah! Yeah! And I know how we can come up with code names!"

Remus twisted to face him so fast he stumbled and fell over. Unaffected, he popped back up and demanded, "Really? How?"

"We can find out our spirit animals!" Sirius declared with conviction. Met with their skeptical expressions, he assured them, "No, really! I read about it somewhere... Hold on... Aha!" He brandished an old, musty book. "I snitched it from my old man's library back at Number 12. It's full of pretty cool concepts for sort of advanced magic..." Sirius' eyes widened at his friend's dismayed faces, and he spluttered, "No, don't give up on me! There's a potion in here..." He flipped open to a dogeared page. Remus lunged for it, ignoring Sirius' indignation at having it snatched from him, and fussily smoothed out the bent corner.

"There," he cooed, "all better now." His eyebrows drew together as he scanned the page. "I dunno Sirius... This potion looks pretty tricky, and we would have to steal some of these ingredients... Where would we brew it, anyways? It's not like we can brew it in here, and the teacher would kill us if we tried to brew it in his classroom. I mean, we would be breaking about a million school rules—"

James interjected, "I know that Hogwarts is a pretty strict school sometimes, but I don't think it's that strict."

Remus glared at him. "It was an exaggeration, James! As I was saying, where would we brew it?"

"Well," Peter began slowly, "no one ever goes into Myrtle's place."

Sirius glanced at him confusedly. "Myrtle?"

"Yeah. Moaning Myrtle. She died in a girls' toilet a few decades ago, and she's so depressing that none of the girls ever go in there. I overheard Jones complaining the other day in History of Magic," he added as an explanation.

Remus began to nod. "Yeah, that could work... Okay. Today, during Potions, Pete and I can sneak some ingredients, cause we are start a new potion today, so he's going to send us to the ingredients cabinet anyways. You, James, will accompany Sirius on his way to learn the Slytherin password tomorrow night. You can drop the cauldron off on your way there. Then come back as soon as you've gotten the password. And, most importantly," Remus fixed them all with a glare: one that chilled them to the bone with the bestial quality it lent the boy's face. "Don't get caught."

They had Potions with the Slytherins right after breakfast, which was good; otherwise, they would be jittery throughout the day. This way, they only fidgeted during breakfast. Sirius' eyes shone with mischief as they walked to Potions, and James could see his own hazel eyes reflected in Sirius' grey ones, wide with excitement. He was sure that the effect was only magnified by his glasses, but for once, he really didn't care about his dorky glasses. He was too caught up in the moment, so exhilarated, to care whether or not his circle glasses made him look like a nerd. Or that Muggle singer, what's-his-face. Johnnie Lemons or something like that, but he wasn't important. Nothing was important. Nothing but this wonderful heist, this brilliant prank.

They entered the classroom and set up. James and Peter shared a cauldron, as did Sirius and Remus. Peter's chair was rattling against the ground. When James glanced over at him, he could see the anticipation and delight that he felt reflected on Peter's face.

The teacher bounced into the classroom. This would be James' first lesson with him. He was a man with an impressive moustache and balding straw-like hair, whose waistcoat strained against his shockingly rotund belly. His tiny feet clicked against the cold stone floor of the dungeon. His face was jovial, his gooseberry eyes lit with a smile. James rather liked him. He was sure that this incredibly jolly, fat man would not get too mad if they were caught.

"Now then," he began, rubbing his pudgy hands together eagerly. "My name is Professor Slughorn, and, as you can see, I'll be teaching you Potions for the next several years. We're going to start with a practical lesson today—"

"Why?" asked a voice from somewhere ahead of James. He leaned around his cauldron, then rolled his eyes. Of course. Only Evans would question a practical lesson. "Why aren't we learning the theory, or, I dunno, safety procedures, first?"

Sirius gasped, "Why would you want to learn safety procedures? That would make everything so dull."

"Now, now," interrupted Professor Slughorn. "This young lady asked a valid question. It is because I believe that learning is done best when applied immediately. Can any of you tell me what you know about the Cure for Boils?"

Evans' hand punched the air. "The Cure for Boils is effective against hives, pustules, and boils, obviously, and since it is a robust potion, care must be taken when brewing it. If brewed incorrectly, it may cause boils to form, or to erupt."

"Merlin, Evans," scoffed James. "You sound as if you've swallowed the bloody textbook." She twisted around in her seat and sent sparks at him, singing his eyebrows. James yelped, and she smugly turned back around to face the front.

"Excellent! Your name is Miss Evans?"

"Yes sir."

"You wouldn't happen to be related to Huw Evans, of Magical Law Enforcement?" inquired Professor Slughorn, a hint of hopefulness mingled with the interest in his tone.

"My parents are Muggles," Evans replied confusedly. _Of course_, James thought, dismayed. _She doesn't know yet._

Professor Slughorn was evidently surprised that a Muggleborn had been able to answer so eloquently, and James' liking of him lessened distinctly. "Take five points for Gryffindor, Miss Evans." Evans beamed, and James rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat.

James glanced at Remus, who met his eye and nodded, his face grave. James gave him a small smile to reassure him that it was okay, he would do fine, he would not get caught. Suddenly grinning, he sat up and pointed his wand at Evans' inkwell, which che wasn't paying attention to in the least.

He whispered, "Wingardium Leviosa," and levitated her inkwell over, over, over, there. He lowered it carefully onto the very edge of her desk, right behind her elbow, right above her bookbag. When Slughorn dismissed them to retrieve their ingredients, she leapt up with such enthusiasm that her elbow hit the inkwell. Sent it toppling over the edge. Letting its contents soak her bag, and all that was in it. Drenching her books in blue black ink. Evans let a little cry of despair escape her pale pink lips as she hurriedly attempted to save her books.

They were stained navy blue, and James smothered his grin at Remus' disapproving face. He reconstructed his expression into one of polite concern, and knelt to help her. He was the only one that did. "I don't need your help," she growled. She pushed back her hair, getting the sticky ink there, too.

"And yet you're receiving it anyways," cheerfully replied James. He swept up her books, plopped them in her arms, and began mopping up the ink with his sleeve. She huffed and set her books down, then began fussing over them. Slughorn bustled over, seeing her dilemma, and set the textbooks right with a wave of his wand.

"Miss Evans, you must be more careful in the future," he chastised lightly. James didn't look up, but he could almost feel the heat radiating from her face as she muttered her assent. "And, Mr. Potter," he continued. James' head snapped up, tweaking his neck. "Good on you for helping a young lady."

"Just trying to be a gentleman, like my mum taught me," James answered seriously.

Slughorn nodded, obviously buying James' act. "Yes, yes, indeed. Take another five points for Gryffindor. How's your mother doing, by the way? She had quite the aptitude for Potions when I taught her."

"She's a Healer now, sir, and she's doing quite well." James paused, his fist clenching his ink soaked sleeve thoughtfully. "You must have been here a long time, sir." Slughorn roared with laughter.

"Cheeky, aren't you?" James grinned. "Another point, Mr. Potter, just for making me laugh." Slughorn bustled away again, and James finished mopping the ink up.

"Thanks, I guess," muttered Evans.

"Ah, Evans," he replied, patting her face condescendingly. "Maybe someday you'll see, I'm not all that bad."

"And pigs'll fly," she snorted.

James grinned at the blue handprint on her face, which she was oblivious to. "That can be arranged."

"Good luck," Remus whispered to Sirius and James as they hoisted the cauldron, filled with the ingredients, equipment, and old musty book. Peter drew the Invisibility Cloak over their heads, and led them out. Peter was to wait for them to return, hidden in the alcove just a few yards away from the portrait hole, then let them back in.

They moved as quietly as possible, but it was hard—not only was the cauldron loud, but Sirius kept getting distracted by the Cloak. Slowly but surely, they clanked down the six flights of stairs to the entrance hall, then down a corridor until they reached the bathroom labeled for girls. Quietly, they pushed open the door and slipped inside.

A wailing noise reached their ears, but abruptly stopped as the cauldron hit James' leg, making a loud clanging noise. "Who's there?" called a rather miserable sounding girls' voice. It echoed from nowhere. James pulled off the Cloak. The ghostly image of a young girl, about twelve years old, appeared in front of them. "You're boys," she informed them.

Sirius drawled, "No, really? We hadn't noticed."

"Then you must be quite thick," she mused, distracted from her misery. "Your bathroom is across the hall... But it's after curfew. You should be in bed, you should."

James sighed and put down the cauldron. "Myrtle, my name is James Potter and this is Sirius Black. We want to brew a potion, extracurricular of course, but we wanted to put it somewhere where no one would bother it. Would it be okay if we kept it here?"

Myrtle bit her translucent lip and frowned at them, her silvery eyes still watery-looking. "So... You'll be coming back?"

"Yes," confirmed Sirius.

"And you'll say hi to me?"

"If you want us to," James shrugged. Myrtle hesitated, then nodded.

"You can use the big stall over there," she muttered, waving vaguely over her shoulder. Then she floated away, wailing.

"Thank you, Myrtle!" called Sirius. "Why do you think she's doing that?" he whispered.

James shrugged again and whispered back, "Maybe she likes it." They left the cauldron in the large stall and, after a hurried farewell to their new host, rushed to the Slytherin common room under the Cloak, the location of which they had procured from the Prewett twins.

After loitering there for around five minutes, they realised that it was after curfew—all of the students were in bed. Sirius kicked at a suit of armour sourly. A loud clang echoed through the dark, dampish corridor they stood in. Their eyes met, and Sirius cursed under his breath as they dove into an alcove.

Suddenly, the wall opened up, and a lumpy looking boy stood at the opening, leering at the seemingly empty hallway. "Well, that got them to come out... How do we draw him further away?" James mused. He stuck his hand in his pyjama pocket thoughtfully, and his fingers brushed something. He pulled it out. An old piece of candy. "Aha!" he breathed. Sirius glanced over curiously, and his eyes lit up when he saw the candy. Sirius made a grab for it, and James shook his head before throwing it down the corridor.

James' aim was spot on, and a bang! drew the boy farther from the entrance, which sealed behind him. Sirius clapped quietly, and James grinned proudly, as they waited for the boy to come back.

Sirius whispered, "His name is Amycus Carrow. Bloody git. He was one of the pureblood kids my parents used to introduce me to, to try and 'fix me'. They stopped when this guy and his sister came here, about three years ago... His favorite pasttimes were spitting contests, and burning flobberworms with the sun and a firewhisky bottle." They both shook their heads disgustedly as Carrow returned.

Carrow grumbled, "Purity," and the wall reopened. James made to leave, but Sirius grabbed his arm and prevented him from going until the wall closed up again. Slowly, silently, they began to exit the dungeons. They were almost out—

—Sirius tripped on the last step, careening into a suit of armour. The blasted thing toppled over with a deafening crash, and shouts could be heard. All stealth forgotten, James yelled, "Run!" The two bolted up to the seventh floor, and Peter, who saw them coming and whispered the password before they got there, held open the portrait hole and closed it with a sharp snap.

All four Marauders sprinted up to their dorms and flopped onto their beds. "Sirius," James panted, "why do you have to be so bloody clumsy?"

"Language, James," reprimanded Remus tiredly.


	6. Antlers and Glue

_Everything stinks till it's finished._

_-Dr. Seuss_

"Are we ready?" asked Remus. It was the next night. Thunder roared outside, rain struck the windows, just as it had for the past two days. Each of them nodded gravely, and Remus said, "Alright, James, take the stage."

James traded places with Remus, and he began to pace up and down. Sirius snickered. James spun and snapped, "Excuse me, soldier?"

Sirius bit his lip, trying to stifle his laughter. "It's just, Commander Potter, you're so short, and scrawny, that you look sorta ridiculous."

James puffed up his chest and tried to make himself look taller as he met Sirius' eye squarely and yelled, "Drop and gimme ten!"

"Ten what?" Sirius asked, bewildered.

Remus rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to do ten push-ups, Sirius."

"But why?" demanded Sirius.

"Because," Peter insisted, "he's your commander." Sirius pouted and did five half-hearted push-ups before flopping on the ground, gasping for breath. James laughed, but quickly reconstructed his face into a scowl.

"Now, boys, this is it. The big one. The one we've all been waiting for. We are the best prankers that Hogwarts has ever seen. We're going to pull this off, I'm sure of it. And we won't get caught. Because we are the Marauders!" They all cheered, then Sirius and Remus swept the Cloak over them all, since they were the tallest. On silent toes, they slipped out of the dormitory and through the the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady, their portrait. Sirius doubled over in a silent fit of laughter. James kicked him lightly. They continued on their way. First, they stopped at Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

"Myrtle," stage-whispered James. "Where are you?" Myrtle swooped in front of them.

"Hello," she greeted them. She glanced at Peter and Remus. "Who are they?"

Remus stepped forward. "Hi, Miss Warren. My name is Remus Lupin, and this is Peter Pettigrew. We're going to be working on this potion tonight, if that's alright with you."

"Yes, that's fine. It's over there." She turned to James and Sirius. "Where are you going?" she asked curiously.

"We have some business to attend to," James replied briskly.

"Oh," muttered Myrtle. She looked crestfallen, and James felt a little bad about leaving so soon. "I thought you might like to stay..." She blushed as she stared at James. James' eyes widened and he assured her that they would be returning, then left as quickly as he could without running.

Sirius' eyes were watering as he stumbled up behind James. "James, I think Myrtle fancies you!" James shushed him, flushing horribly. "Myrtle and James, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S—"

James clapped a hand over his mouth. The warm glow from a lantern swinging from someone's fingers washed the walls in a buttery yellow. Sirius' eyes widened, and they fumbled with the Cloak. It twisted, and they had to take it off again—

Apollyon Pringle crept into view. His milky, cataracted eyes swept over the spot where James and Sirius where crouching under the Invisibility Cloak once, twice, three times before he limped away on rheumatism-damaged joints. Sirius sighed in relief, and James slumped backwards. He wiped away the cold sweat that had broken out on his forehead, then they clambered to their feet and snuck down to the dungeons.

"Purity," whispered James. The wall opened. James turned to Sirius, triumphant. James' face fell. Sirius looked sickened, pale, scared. "Are you okay?" Sirius nodded his head vigorously, and James hesitated before accepting the answer. Because Sirius did not look okay. Sirius looked like he was about to throw up, run, or keel over and die. But James let it go—he would deal with this later. Together, they crept into the Slytherin common room. James could feel Sirius shaking beside him. He felt a little shaky himself.

The Slytherin common room was awash in a dark green glow from lanterns hanging on chains from the low ceiling. The rough stone walls and cold feeling made James think that they were somewhere under the lake. The only warmth came from the small fire crackling beneath an extravagant mantelpiece, one that must have taken hours, and several blisters, to carve. The room was furnished with high-backed chairs made of the darkest leather. "Which staircase do you think is for the boys?" James whispered.

"Ummm... Let's try the staircase on the right?" suggested Sirius. "Maybe it's set up the same in all of the Houses." James nodded, and they tentatively put their foot on the first step. Then the second. They slowly made their way up to the first door, reading First Year. "Okay, this is where Snivellus lives," Sirius said. "So where's Lucy?"

James led the way up to the dorm reading Sixth Year. "Here we are!" he breathed cheerfully. Sirius gently pushed on the door. It opened with an eerie silence. James gulped, but they slipped inside anyways.

The room was inhabited by loud snores and dirty underwear. Sirius giggled, "You'd think, since they act so superior, that they'd be better about cleaning up after themselves."

James snorted. "They probably still think that their house elf is going to do it for them." They entered the bathroom. James stood in the doorway while Sirius pawed through the medicine cabinet, under the sink, in the shower, even peeked behind the toilet and in the tank.

"James," he whined, "I can't find it."

James bit his lip. "Maybe it's under his bed or something?" Sirius nodded, and they scanned the room. James' eyes lit upon the blonde boy, who was snoring something dreadful and snuggling a pillow. James choked on his laughter, and Sirius, his eyes watering, patted him on the back. James bent to look under the bed. Just some old, dusty socks, some broken quill pens, a bottle of ink—

"What's this?" James held up a magazine titled Witch Weekly. Sirius' eyes glinted with malice as they read the cover. Witch Weekly's Sexiest Celebrity Award Winner.

"Looks like Lucy reads the gossip rags," sang Sirius. James snorted and tossed the tabloid back under the bed. He slid open the top drawer when Sirius prodded him. He ignored it. Sirius poked him again, and he once again let it slide.

A whack over the head sent James leaping to his feet, as he quietly growled, "What do you want, Black?" Sirius, who was slowly turning red from the strain of quieting the laughter bubbling up his throat, pointed at the pillow that Malfoy was clutching so tenderly.

Except it wasn't a pillow.

It was a toiletry bag.

A toiletry bag.

James stuffed his fist in his mouth, and the two had to sit down for a few minutes under the Cloak to calm down. "How're we gonna get it?" James inquired.

"Pillow," Sirius replied. He snatched it from one of the beds–the boy sleeping there had his head where his feet should be, and was spread eagle across the bed. Carefully, James took hold of the toiletry bag and eased it away.

Malfoy made a pitiful whimpering noise and reached for something, his eyes screwed shut. Sirius gently held the pillow within Malfoy's reach, and, after a few passes, Malfoy's pale, spidery fingers wrapped around the pillow and drew it to him. He curled up around it, shielding it with his long legs. James grinned at Sirius, who smirked triumphantly, and they crept down the stairs back to the First Year dormitory.

This door, too, opened silently. It was unnerving. This room was strewn with books and paper wads, filled with sighs of sleep. It was much more peaceful. James pointed out Snivellus, who had the blankets drawn up to his chin and looked stiff as a board. His head was facing the ceiling. It was too perfect.

Sirius carefully squirted the hair product around Snivellus' head. It smelled expensive. James held onto the bottles. When they were finished, they crept back to the common room and painstakingly painted _Courtesy of the Marauders_ on one of the walls using the remainder of the hair product. They dumped the empty bottles in a pile underneath the message and left.

As soon as they were out of earshot, they began cackling with glee, all the way up to Myrtle's bathroom, where they swept the Cloak off and retold the tale dramatically to Peter, whose eyes widened in awe, and to Remus, who was diligently working on the potion.

Remus interrupted James' narrative of Malfoy and his pillow to say, "Okay, it has to brew for a few days, then you can finish up."

"Us?" Sirius demanded. "What about you?"

"My mom is really sick," Remus explained anxiously, twisting his hands nervously. James felt a rush of sympathy for his odd, pale, scarred, tall friend. "I'm going to go visit her..."

"Of course, Remus," James assured him, clapping him on the back. "Just don't let her keep you too long, yeah?"

James was exhausted. He had gotten next to no sleep last night, and Remus had made them all get up at six because he remembered that they hadn't done their homework.

Speaking of which, James had quickly lost his excitement for out of class assignments. They were boring, and dull, and boring, and boring. He hated them with a burning passion.

James was a zombie as he headed down to breakfast. Sirius was chattering excitedly... Something about asparagus. When he glanced next to him, Remus was rereading his Transfiguration essay. A cramp in James' left hand burned, and he pressed down on it, hard. Peter was... Nowhere to be found. James straightened.

"Where's Peter?" he queried, interrupting Sirius' tirade about the evils of asparagus.

All three of them turned around to find him. And there he was, standing in the middle of the corridor, asleep. James breathed a sigh of relief and began to push his way through the crowd. Peter was still sleeping, despite the people coming up behind him–

Were those Slytherins?

James' eyes widened, and he heard Sirius gasp and Remus growl, and they renewed their efforts. Remus almost literally clawed his way through the mass of students.

They didn't get there in time.

Peter was still asleep when the biggest, baddest, ugliest Slytherin pushed him to the ground, where he woke up with a cry of pain and shock. "Well, well, well. If it isn't the blood traitor's kid," he sneered. It was Mulciber. "How's your mummy, Pettigrew? Still feeding you junk about equal rights for Mud—"

"Don't you dare!" James roared. A wave of air rippled through the corridor, blasting everyone around him backwards. "Don't you dare finish that sentence," he hissed.

"Or what?" Mulciber leered. "You'll set your daddy on me? Cause I'm not scared of—"

"I don't need my father to fight my battles," replied James, straightening.

Snivellus stepped up from behind Mulciber, scoffed, "This isn't your battle, Potter. Go run home to your buddies over there. This doesn't concern you." James was pleased to see hair product smeared in his greasy hair.

"This became my battle when you threatened my friends and what I believe in!" snapped James. "Leave now." James fished in his robe for his wand, then drew it and brandished it at them. "Leave my friends alone."

"What if we don't _feel_ like it?" Mulciber drawled, twirling his wand.

James mocked, "What if we don't _feel_ like letting you leave in one piece?" The colour drained out of Mulciber's face, and crept into Snivellus'. "Cause that's what I'll do if you don't leave."

Snivellus curled his lip. "Will you _really_, Potter? Or you just acting all man for the crowd. Will you actually curse us?"

James' lip twitched in anger. He considered replying, but instead yelled, "Anteoculatia!" He never knew why, but he had felt a strange attraction to this spell when he had come across it in reading. A connection. Nevertheless, Snivellus doubled over under the weight of the antlers sporting from his greasy, shampoo-ridden hair.

A yell from next to him alerted him to Sirius, joining him in the duel. Remus was behind them, keeping the onlookers from getting themselves hurt by rushing in. Sirius had shouted, "Cantis!" Mulciber burst into song—he sang opera awfully. James sniggered.

Snivellus had managed to straighten up, and now teetered as he jabbed his wand, first at Sirius. "Cavalrio." Sirius' waves of inky hair began to fall out. He collapsed to his knees and wailed as he gathered the hair in his arms. James glared at Snivellus. "Colloshoo," Snivellus added, his wand aimed at James. James, who was trying to make his way to Sirius, fell to the ground, his ankles twisted. He groaned in pain and pulled himself to his knees.

James rasped, "Mucus ad Nauseam." Snivellus found himself with an uncontrollably runny nose. James smirked, thinking of the nickname that they had given Snivellus.

Suddenly, a girl burst into sight. "Sev!" she cried, rushing to his aid. She pulled a pack of tissues from her bookbag, which was splattered in blueblack ink, and rounded on James. "What is your problem?" Evans screeched.

James angrily opened his mouth, but she never let him speak. "Potter, he gave you no reason to hex him. Don't you know that that's bullying? Which makes you a bully, Potter, and you, Black. And, Remus," she pleaded, her voice softer, "why wouldn't you stop them?" Remus looked down at his feet. She turned back to James and Sirius. "Leave Sev alone," she commanded coolly."

"I'll do what I want," retorted James. "Snivellus—"

"Don't call him that!" screamed Evans.

James continued over her, "—isn't any more saintly than I am! I started this because he and his friend were bullying Peter!" Evans gaped. "So maybe you should get both sides of the story before you go all judge-y on everyone."

Evans closed her mouth with a snap. "You still shouldn't have hexed anyone. You should have gone to a teacher, or, if you were going to resort to abuse, then only verbal." She helped Snivellus up and towed him to the Hospital Wing, struggling under the weight of his antlers.

James seethed, "What's her problem?" Remus, who was tugging on James' feet to no avail, shrugged. James growled, then called, "Peter? You okay?"

Peter uncurled from his spot on the floor. He chose not to answer James' question, instead asking one of his own. "Do you think my mum is okay?" Enid Pettigrew worked for the Quibbler, a magazine. Her articles were largely centred around Muggle-born rights.

Remus assured him, "I'm sure she's fine. Now, let's get James up, then we can take Sirius to the Hospital Wing, yeah?" Peter nodded, and tugged on James' arm. Remus did as well, and James groaned as his ankles were twisted further. "Sorry, James!" winced Remus. "How about you take off your shoes? I'm sure someone will get them." James nodded, and worked his way out of his shoes, wincing the whole way. "C'mon, Sirius," prompted Remus, obviously exasperated with Sirius' theatrics. "Pick up your hair and follow us." Remus dragged James along by one of his arms.

James was impressed. Remus' wiry, gangly, unnaturally tall figure didn't look like it could handle much physical exertion, but Remus pulled James along by himself for several yards before Peter hurried to catch up and took his other arm. James studied his socked feet as they trailed behind him...in front of him...whatever. They were beginning to swell, his socks already stretching to accommodate them. James swallowed the bitter feeling and looked away.

Sirius trailed after them dejectedly, stroking the bundle of hair in his arms.

They didn't meet anyone on their way to the Hospital Wing, for which James was eternally grateful. He didn't want to be seen dragged along, even if it was for a good reason.

He tilted his head back and saw the doors of the Hospital Wing looming into sight. James dragged his feet, forcing Remus and Peter to stop. "What...?" Remus trailed off as he saw James hauling himself to his feet. "James! You'll just make it worse, don't do this to yourself!" he pleaded, pulling on James' sleeve.

"No," insisted James. "Let me get there myself... Like a man."

Remus snorted derisively, but flung the doors open all the same. James straightened his back until it was ruler straight, pushed back his shoulders, and walked into the Hospital Wing, limping awfully. Sirius slumped in miserably, and Remus jogged in, yelling, "Madam Pomfrey! C'mere, quick!" The young mediwitch poked her head out of a curtain, scowling.

"Remus Lupin, I swear to Merlin, if that cut has opened up again— Oh!" she gasped. "What the devil happened to you, boy?" She rushed over and herded him over to a bed. "Oh, dear. Two twisted ankles—Remus, why did you let this boy walk?"

"He didn't give me a choice," whined Remus. "And Sirius needs help, too." Madam Pomfrey slowly turned to look at Sirius, who was sitting dejectedly at the end of James' bed, gazing at his hair forlornly.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," she muttered. She bustled over to her office. James heard a voice float from behind the curtain a few beds down the line. "C'mon, Sev, you have to drink this," the voice said.

"Evans?"

Evans poked her head out of the curtain. "What do you want, Potter?"

"Nothing!" assured James. "I'm here to get fixed."

"Why do you need to get fixed?" she asked, her scorn evident.

James wrinkled his nose. "Why don't you ask your greasy little boyfriend, huh?"

Turning red, Evans spluttered, "He's not—I never said—We're not—Sev is not my boyfriend, Potter!"

"Oh, so you're single, then?" James guessed. He couldn't care less, except he wanted to fluster her. And fluster her he did.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she taunted.

James quirked an eyebrow. "So you're in a relationship, then?"

"Never said that."

"I thought so," James replied, smirking. Evans gaped, the colour flooding from her face, making the itty bitty freckles stand out.

Remus admonished, "James. That wasn't nice."

Peter added, "That was a little low. Just saying."

"Yeah, mate. Evans can't help it if Snivellus hexes any guys who even look like they're thinking of talking to her," chimed Sirius, finally taking his eyes away from the bundle of hair in his arms.

Evans' eyes narrowed as she protested, "Sni—Sev does not! He's not jealous or anything!"

"Sure he's not," snorted James, crossing his arms and looking away pointedly.

Evans huffed, but then asked, "So why _are_ you in the Hospital Wing, then?"

James started, twisting around to look at her. "You don't really want to know. You're just being polite."

Evans frowned. "I don't ask questions that I don't want the answer to," she snapped.

James eyed her warily, but answered, "My ankles are twisted."

"What?" she gasped. "But—why?"

Sirius replied viciously, "Cause Snivellus glued his shoes to the ground, and James got stuck there, his feet in one place while the rest of him was stuck in uncomfortable positions."

"Sev..." growled Evans, stomping back inside the curtain. James could hear her hissing, "Why did you do that? He didn't do you any lasting harm..."

Madam Pomfrey returned, clutching several potions. She ducked inside the curtain, and emerged with two potions less than she had before. She handed two to James, and one to Sirius, then watched as they drained the potions.

Sirius' potion's effect was instantaneous. Hair began to sprout from his bald scalp, falling halfway down to his shoulders, bouncing there voluminously. Sirius sighed in relief, stroking his slightly choppy, wavy hair. James' potions took longer. Suddenly, a fiery pain flared up in both of his ankles before fading, agonisingly slowly.

"You're going to have to stay the night, I'm afraid," Madam Pomfrey stated. James began to protest, but she quieted him with, "If you behave, I'll let you leave for breakfast tomorrow." James pouted, but remained silent. "Remus, I have a potion for you to bring to your mother when you leave tonight. Come here," she beckoned to Remus and led him to her office.


	7. Do You Dare To Go In?

_You will come to a place where the streets are not marked. Some windows are lighted. But mostly they're darked. A place you could sprain both your elbow and chin! Do you dare to stay out? Do you dare to go in? How much can you lose? How much can you win?_

_-Dr. Seuss_

"Potter!" a voice yelled from behind him. It had been a few weeks, and James was walking better than ever. "Potter!" James turned to see Evans pushing her way through the mass of students. James was thoroughly annoyed. It was Saturday, and Sirius, in a bout of spitefulness, had let James sleep through breakfast. The rest of the school was going to Hogsmeade. They would get to drink butterbeer (which his mum wouldn't let him try) and firewhisky (which his mother would kill him rather than letting him go within thirty feet of it). And go to Honeydukes. Where they had Pepper Imps and Droobles Best Blowing Gum and Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans and Acid Pops and Cockroach Clusters and mmmmmm... James' mouth began to water at the thought of all of the chocolate he wouldn't be allowed to eat.

Sirius and James, as a result, currently weren't speaking.

Evans caught up to them, panting slightly. "I couldn't help but notice... You guys weren't at breakfast." Sirius scowled. James pretended not to notice. "Gosh, Black, no need to look so hostile. I was just going to inform you where the kitchens were, but—"

"Evans. You have to tell me," James begged, gripping her shoulders. "I didn't eat dinner last night."

Evans, appalled, gasped, "Why not?"

"I was in detention," James replied, "Now tell me where to find the bloody kitchens!"

Remus turned the page of his book."Language, James." He continued reading Hogwarts: A History. James rolled his eyes and waited for Evans to enlighten him.

"Go to the Entrance Hall, down the stairs, to the left. About halfway down the corridor, there's a painting with a silver bowl of fruit. Tickle the green pear." James raised his eyebrows.

"How come you're telling us this?" Sirius asked suspiciously.

Evans raised an eyebrow. "I can't bear the thought of anyone going hungry, even if it is just for a few hours." James began to walk away. "Oi! Potter, Black, Remus, Peter!" They turned to face her again. "I expect to be the first to know when you find a secret passageway."

Remus grinned. "No problem, Lily."

"Yeah, Lil. You'll be the first to know," Peter assured her.

Sirius winked, sending a wave of annoyance through James. "Don't fret, little flower." Sirius ducked as Evans attempted to whack him over the head with her very heavy book.

"See you, Evans." James sprinted down six flights of stairs to the Entrance Hall, then another. "Did she say left or right?" mused James as the others caught up to him.

"I think it was right..." replied Peter, uncertainty lacing his features.

Remus nodded. "I'm pretty sure it was right." James shrugged and they turned right. They studied the pictures on the walls until they found a golden bowl of pears.

"What colour was it? Green?" James pointedly ignored Sirius' question.

"No, red," insisted Peter, his voice definitive. James reached up, but couldn't quite touch the red pear. Sirius, however, could, and he tickled it with a smug look in James' direction. James scowled and jumped up to grab the doorknob formed by the red pear as it gave a hearty laugh. His fingers closed around it, and he swung with the door, hitting the wall with a loud "Oof!"

Sirius laughed as James let go and fell to the floor. James shoved him through the circular hole in the wall that had been revealed. Sirius tripped and fell on his face in the plush black carpet. Remus rolled his eyes and slipped in, his long legs bending to accommodate the small space. Remus helped Sirius up, his pine green eyes roving over the room.

"Guys..." Remus began, "this isn't the kitchens." James looked around. The walls were a buttery yellow and the door and window frames where made of honey-coloured wood. The floor was covered in a thick black carpet, already warm from the sun beating down through the windows. The couches and chairs were a smooth yellow.

Wait. Couches?

Why were there people on the couches?

"Sh—"

"Language, Sirius," Remus said vaguely, backing out the door. Sirius, being his clumsy, clown-footed, idiotic self, tripped on the way out, grunting in pain. The sound drew the people's attentions.

"Oi!" someone shouted. James hauled Peter out and slammed the door shut, grabbing Sirius' shirt and running. They ran past the stairwell and halfway down the corridor befor leaning against the wall, gasping for breath.

"Well," Sirius gulped, "I think we found out where the Hufflepuffs live." They began to laugh, at first little giggles that morphed into normal people laughing, then out-of-breath, full-on, hearty guffaws. James laughed until he remembered he was mad at Sirius for being a spiteful, haughty little jerk. He stopped abruptly and surveyed his surroundings. Just across the corridor was a painting.

A painting.

With a silver fruit bowl.

That had a green pear in it.

James groaned and tickled the green pear, which giggled and turned into a big green handle. He put his head on the handle and glanced back at Remus, Peter, and Sirius.

"Go on, then," Peter prompted. "The worst that can happen is its Ravenclaw." James shuddered.

"Oh, the horror!" Sirius wailed, falling to his knees. "All the books, and the parchment, and the ink, and the studious people!" Remus whacked him upside the head. James steeled himself, then yanked the door open.

This place was bustling with little people. Little people with flappy ears and big eyes. "What are these things?" breathed James, eyeing them with wonder.

Remus, Peter, and Sirius looked at him with raised eyebrows. James felt a pang of guilt and anger when Sirius looked away quickly. Peter was the one who spoke. "I would've thought you knew, seeing as the Potters are an old pureblood family... These are house-elves, James."

"Oh! So these are house-elves!" James exclaimed, kneeling and staring at them all. "My parents told me about them..."

"Masters!" squeaked one. "What can Tiddly do for you?"

Sirius cleared his throat. "What's your name? Tiddly?"

"Yes, Young Master."

Sirius grinned and knelt. "My name is Sirius, and I'm cool. This is Remus, he's brainy. That's Peter, he's unexpectedly wise at times. And this," Sirius ruffled James' already untameable hair, "is my best friend, James, even though he's a prat." James blinked. "So, Tiddly. We missed breakfast. What d'you say to making us some buttered toast and bacon?" Tiddly beamed and ran off.

"Huh. These house elves are really nice," Sirius muttered. "I wish all of them were like that." Sirius led the way to the four replicas of the house tables and sat. "So, James, why didn't you know what a house elf looked like?"

James squirmed in his seat. "Well, my parents don't really... They always told me that slavery was bad."

"Wish my folks told me that," Sirius grumped. "Then I wouldn't have to deal with Kreacher." Sirius spat out the name, as if it tasted bad. Sour. James' leg was bouncing nervously. Sirius noticed; the table was shaking. "Merlin, James, if you have something to say, spit it out," he snapped.

His eyes fixed on his hands, James carefully thought about what he was about to say. "Am I really, I mean, uh... Am I really your best friend?"

Whatever Sirius had been expecting, it hadn't been that. "Course you are!" Then his eyes widened. "Oh my god, James, I'm sorry, I should've asked you first—"

James interrupted him. "Even after..."

_Remus' eyes shone with excitement. "Guys. I have another idea for a prank." James say forward expectantly. Sirius had frozen in the act of doing his homework, and his head slowly turned to face Remus. He looked rather like a hunting dog. _

_Peter prompted, "Well are you gonna tell us, or are you just gonna hold us in suspense?"_

_"You know, I think. I'll leave you to your wondering."_

_Sirius growled and pounced on Remus, who let out a howl of laughter as James and Sirius tickled him mercilessly. "Alright, alright, I'll tell you!" James sat back on his heels and Sirius crossed his legs. "What if we bewitched the Slytherin table?"_

_James gave Remus his best 'we are not amused' expression. "C'mon, Remus. You're going to have to give us more to go on."_

_"Well, every time a Slytherin touches the table, the table swallows them, then poops them out in, like, the girls' bathroom."_

_Sirius bit his lip. "I dunno, Remus. This is really advanced magic..."_

_"Which makes it all the more unlikely that we did it!" James insisted._

_Sirius frowned. "We're already juggling homework and we still haven't finished that potion, James. It has to steep for a year. And we have to check on it regularly, and we have to figure out how we're going to take it home, and—"_

_"Sirius, this is our chance! We have to get as many good pranks out now, while we're still innocent first years, as we can. Sirius, please," James pleaded._

_Sirius fixed him with a glare. "Fine. But we have to make it so the table poops them out in the toilet." James grinned. "And you're the one who is going to the library."_

_"What?"_

_"You heard me. I still have to do my Transfiguration essay and my Potions assignment, so I can't. Go on, shoo."_

_James' eyes narrowed. He grabbed the half finished Transfiguration essay and looked it over. "Hmm..." He began to pace. "You have some grammar issues, and—oops!" James faked tripping, and hit the table, hard. Sirius' ink bottle went flying into James... And all over the essay. "Here, Black. Why don't you finish your essay?" James spun on his heel and stormed out of the common room, trailing ink after him._

"James, listen to me. It's okay," Sirius insisted. "I got you back for it, didn't I? Can we please just... Forget about it? Please?" James grinned and nodded. Sirius relaxed.

Tiddly scampered up, balancing a plate of toast, a platter of bacon, and a jug of pumpkin juice.

"Thanks, Tiddly!" Remus exclaimed. Sirius nodded emphatically, a piece of toast already in his mouth, butter dribbling down his chin.

Tiddly bowed and began to leave. "Tiddly, wait!" James called. "Are you okay with this?"

"Okay with what, Master James?"

"Being enslaved," James replied. "Why don't you ask Dumbledore for pay, or weekends off, or sick days, or—"

"James," hissed Sirius. "Shut your fat mouth. You're upsetting him." James bit his lip and looked at Remus and Peter helplessly. There were tears in Tiddly's eyes.

"Tiddly," consoled Peter, "thank you for your service. You've done excellently. Why don't you go help the other house-elves?" The tears disappeared from Tiddly's eyes and he nodded, beaming once more, and hurried away.

Sirius took one look at James face and stood. "Let's leave. I'm sure they won't mind us taking the plates."

They grabbed the plates and sprinted.

"James," Remus panted as they jogged up the seven flights of stairs to Gryffindor Tower, "you really need to work on your people skills."

"Guuuuys," whined Sirius, "I'm bored."

"Thank you for enlightening us, Sirius," deadpanned Remus, referencing Magical Drafts and Potions as he scribbled his Potions essay in his messy, distracted cursive that no one could read; he insisted it was a good thing because a) if he was wrong, teachers wouldn't know and b) no one could cheat off of him. Nevertheless, it annoyed Sirius to no end when he fell asleep in History of Magic and needed notes, because he didn't trust that James or Peter's would be as 'meticulously accurate' as Remus'.

Peter was sleeping, hanging off of the arm of the couch.

James was curled in one of the armchairs that was blissfully free due to the lack of everyone above second year, doodling in his Potions notebook, which he hadn't yet used. He was using a funny Muggle thing his mother had shown him. It was a wooden stick with smudgy grey stuff inside of it. One was supposed to sharpen it, then use it as a quill.

He was currently drawing Sirius, who was stretched out in front of the fire, reminding James of the dog he had owned growing up, who he had called Bones. Bones had died the year before James came to Hogwarts. James gave Sirius floppy ears.

_Tap tap tap._ James continued to add details, like eyes, nose, mouth... _Tap tap tap_. Sirius rolled over. _Tap tap tap_. Peter snorted in his sleep. _Tap tap tap_.

Remus slammed his quill down, sending splatters of ink all over the place. "Whoever it is," he roared, "will you please put an end to that incessant tapping!"

Not looking up, James answered, "Incessant means not ceasing, or never ending, Remus. You ought to know that." Remus growled dangerously and began to rise from his seat, and James hastened to assure him, "I wasn't tapping, it couldn't have been Peter, and Sirius was just as annoyed by it as you were."

Remus cocked his head, "Then what was it?"

"Ooooh!" Sirius bolted upright. "A mystery!" His head whipped back and forth, his hair flying behind it, in front of it, getting in his mouth.

Sleepily, Peter mumbled, "It's an owl, you dimwits." James, Sirius, and Remus all looked up at the window. Sure enough, a tiny black owl was flapping in the violent winds. Sirius leapt up and let it in, cradling it in his hands.

"Poor thing, it's shivering," he cooed, rocking it back and forth.

"Oi, Mum, there's a letter attached to it," called James. Sirius made a face as he carefully removed the letter from the owl's foot and threw it vaguely in James' direction. James leapt up and snagged it between two fingers, then tore it open.

_Hi everyone! SiriuslyPsychic here. I'm sorry I've not written in so long—don't shoot me! As poor of an excuse it is, I was on a massive road trip to the other side of the country, so yeah. I didn't have good wifi or consistent access to a charger—_

"Weefee?" inquired Peter, "What's weefee?"

Remus shrugged. "Maybe they live somewhere else."

Sirius shuddered. "What are the odds that this SiriuslyPsychic person is... An American?"

"Oh, come on, they can't be that bad!"

"But they play some strange version of rugby!"

James sighed. "Have you ever met one?"

Hesitating, Sirius admitted, "No."

"Then you can't righteously form an opinion!" he declared. Remus smirked and continued reading.

_—so that's why I didn't write. I'm sorry! I hope to get some nice long chapters posted, that hopefully aren't boring, before school starts up again. Gah! I'm a horribly person. Again, if you have any questions for my lovely messengers here, or ideas for a prank, don't hesitate to step up and say something! Shoutout to Mia M.J, Abnegation Ravenclaw, Bikini3, Danigirl84, PsychoSaphire, and any others I may have missed! Thanks to all of you that are reading this! It really means a lot to me. I don't know if I said it before, but my protest for first year is stereotypes. Because it's wrong to group people into categories when they're so much more than what they appear to be at first glance. Thanks again! Love y'all,_

_SiriuslyPsychic_

Remus concluded. "Huh. This person seems..."

"Strange?" offered Peter

Sirius added, "Weird?"

"To be talking to imaginary people with funny names?" suggested James.

"Interesting," Remus corrected. "I, personally, would like to see how this all turns out."

James shrugged. "We should plan our next prank."

"You mean the Slytherin table one?" Peter inquired eagerly.

James grinned. "Yeah. I'll go to the library, ummm... You can stay here, if you like?" _I'm sorry._

"Nah," Sirius replied, "I'll come too." _It's okay. _"Remus, Pete? Coming?"

Remus bounded up excitedly and Peter lumbered to his feet, then they raced to the library, struggling to keep pace with Remus, who was in a tireless sprint.

"God," panted Sirius. "Where does all that power come from? He's so _skinny_."

James raised his eyebrows. "I'm so lost."

"That's okay," Peter assured him. "We're used to it." Then he put on an extra burst of speed, adding distance between himself and James.

_We're... We're used... _James' jaw plummeted and he stopped abruptly, before yelling a battle cry and sprinting after Peter.

Leaping onto his back, he cried, "I've got you now, filthy mongrel! Repent!"

"You'll never take me alive!" vowed Peter, throwing James off and running.

"Then I'll take you dead!" yelled James, tackling Peter's ankles. Peter fell backwards onto James, who groaned. "I hate being skinny."

"Mwahahaha!" cackled Peter. "I've got you now!"

"Oh, no you haven't!" Sirius declared dramatically, jumping onto Peter. "Dog pile!" Laughing, they rolled, wrestling, until a very loud, "SHHHH!" drew their attentions.

Sirius was the first to look up. "S—"

Remus whispered, "Language, Sirius." He looked panicked, his eyes wide and his eyebrows raised. James rolled over and looked around.

"I think we've found the library, boys," he whispered.


End file.
